Aug 15, 2012


A jolly old philosophical time we had in the duck shed where row upon row of hapless beasts lay decked out before us like a eugenic battery farm of poetic poultry imprisonment. What specimens! From the Aylesbury to the Mallard to the.... Duck.... the stalls beckoned us to leer and poke at their - fortunately very stupid - occupants, brandishing their prize ribbons on their bars and railings, trophies won by trophies.

No comments:

Post a Comment