By wingpig

and only I know what I felt

Bloody flies. Not only do they congregate in large numbers on a tree yesterday when I didn't have the macro but today when one chose to swan about patiently ten inches away in full sunlight on a gravestone out of the wind on my way home when I did have the right lens it refused to wander anywhere near the word "died". I suppose I should have noted what this word was. Gutted? Spotted? Rotted would be good but a wider version looks like "-retted" and thus probably fretted. Still. It displaces man not at work and Captain Municipal Ashtray as the primary blip. I shall return to him another time with tripod, I think. I've managed to leave night-time stuff alone for almost another week but had to get a quick one or two on the way back from a talk thing to calm* me back down.

Out of town for the next few days but I should be able to continue posting thanks to the generosity of Rodti in the lend of a "spare" portative informational computating engine.

*I can't deny that the bloke takes a correctly-focussed and properly-exposed picture of a leopard, walrus or polar bear every now and then but there are far better ways of presenting the plight of endangered animals. Still, he came up with the occasional gem such as "it's still intrinsically an elephant yah, but with a different inflection".

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