There’s something a little unnerving about this picture, as though you were meant to yogically squeeze yourself through the gate (or fly over it).
It also reminds me of Hölderlin for some reason:
Where, oh where, when it is winter
Will I find the flowers and where
The sunshine and shadow of earth?
The walls stand
Speechless and cold, in the wind
The weather-vanes clatter.
Tags: Crofton Park