| Wednesday, Dec 6th, 2006 Wild Wood | Permalink |
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 They say, and who are they...? The old woman who spins a tale like a spider spins webs of words that ensnare? The rake thin gravedigger? The stranger met over a tankard of two? Maybe the wise mother dishing out wise words like spoon full of sticky medicine to her children? The wise or the mad? Both? Whoever they may be, they say, that the wild wood has earned it's wild name. They say that that apart from the wistle of the wind there can be heard on certain days voices floating like dead leaves about the forest. They say that the branches can tear and rend the flesh from any man foolish enough to venture there. They say that at the very centre of the wood is a heart of polished pitch black ebony. They say the wood is alive. If you go down to the wood today you're sure to find a surprise... Posted by Martin | Comment (8) Category: View all Photographs, Black & White, Landscape, Gothic | |
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