The Northward Hollow
Soay Sheep, Old Village, St Kilda, July 2013
Geoff Sample, Old Village, St Kilda, July 2013
At dusk, Geoff and I wander along Abhainn Ilishgi, ‘The Dry Burn’, through the abandoned village, to An Lag Bho’n Thuath, ‘The Northward Hollow’, a corrie that lies between the great hills of Chonochair and Oiseval. A snipe flies out from the ditch, it’s shrill alarm call splicing the stillness.
Mist hushes off the bay and creeps after us, wraithlike, into the bowl-shaped vale. It fills the old stone enclosures and obscures the heights above and the sea below. We are being encircled in a void.
An Lag Bho’n Thuath, St Kilda, July 2013
Crouched on the hillside, I look out at a scattering of conical stone shelters and the remains of some oval-shaped walls*. The mist is white, not grey; it shrouds the cleets, as they were known, built by the St Kildans as stores for their catch of birds, or for turf. Tonight they resemble burial chambers. Shuddering, I catch myself, so as not to let my mind drift into eerie fantasy.
The other (and the original) St Kilda
"What we have been living for three decades is frontier capitalism, with the frontier constantly shifting location from crisis to crisis, moving on as soon as the law catches up."
Naomi Klein (via berfrois)
"You, you may say I’m a dreamer,
but I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will be as one”
Hayao Miyazaki animated rain, which means every frame is hand drawn.
I could watch it forever.