arrow-downarrow-leftarrow-rightarrow-upchevron-upchevron-leftchevron-rightchevron-upclosecomment-newemail-newgallerygridheadphones-newheart-filledheart-openmap-geolocatormap-pushpinArtboard 1Artboard 1Artboard 1minusng-borderpauseplayplusreplayscreenArtboard 1sharefacebookgithubArtboard 1Artboard 1linkedinlinkedin_inpinterestpinterest_psnapchatsnapchat_2tumblrtwittervimeovinewhatsappspeakerstar-filledstar-openzoom-in-newzoom-out-new
  • 0
  • 33
  • 2

A mother, a guardian

4 years, 3 months

I know I'm in Scotland when I'm afraid of the sheep. A new mother, who guards her young, aims her eyes like arrows at my chest. I don't know how to explain that I mean them no harm. I try to appear non-threatening. The young ones relax when I bah in their language, but the mother seems unimpressed. A good mother, then. I move along so as not to test her patience.