Is it time itself that we mourn?

Polmaise castle is a pile of stones: little more than rubble in a dense forest.

About this time last year:
We looked at the map.
There was so much that we could not place.
This did not matter.
We sought adventure [on our Sunday off]
We got completely lost amidst the rhoddies and the trees:
In our adventure we came to wonder if both the ‘start’ and the ‘finish’ were some kind of circular?
A walker-by, who told us how he had enjoyed childhood adventure on Gillies Hill, kindly guided us to the rubble of Polmaise castle

Polmaise castle was blown up as I was conceived. Now all that survives is the rubble and the broken doorway. A collapsed doorway just as it fell: accidentally dividing 18 from 65. It occurs to me that these numbers are generally considered as being ‘landmarks’ of human age.

Is it time itself that we mourn from omphalos on Vimeo.

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