I feel reminded of an old Hitchcock as I'm looking at this composition of road and manor. Psycho, maybe. It doesn't quite fit into this current century.
In the same instant I'm grasping the arm of my father, the car stops. A practiced grab for the camera, the hand on the door handle, I'm standing in the middle of the road, somewhere in Ireland. To my left is the mountain that kept being on our side for the last ten minutes, to my left a grassy plain extends until it finally meets the sea where it transforms into cliffs. Over it clouds are hanging. Grey.
When the first tiny drops are touching my skin I remember the three people waiting in the car behind me. Click.
