Thursday, 13 January 2011

There is this farm that i ride by sometimes, with a train, that I really like. In fact if I was a bit braver and believed this would be gracious on the people, I would write to the owners and ask if I may get it's story. It's real easy to be the conqueror of the world when it comes to art, but journalism is the most social of it's forms and I am not quite ready yet.
           I first noticed it, because the nearest station is called "The Long Mountain". The area is reasonably farmless, at times, at least from what the train can see, there's no people inhabiting the slopes at all. They are probably all on the sunnier side. Then at some point few minutes in, the hills open a little and in this triangular valley, nearly a gorge, with a small chapel marking the crossroads, this magnificent old farm stands. The buildings are far larger than those of a common stead. This is an overwhelming stature of a family's business. I have no idea where their money comes from. I don't even know if the industry that fed them still exists. I just know I wouldn't mind knowing some more. It's not the sort of a place I would wish to own as it's far too stressful to keep up with it's maintenance, but to see it up close sometimes, that would perhaps be quite curious.