I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. — Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking
I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. — Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking
I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. — Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking
I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. — Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking
I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. — Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking
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I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. Magnetic to the meandering eye. Enigmatic, unreachable.

— Sara Baume, A Line Made by Walking
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