2009/05/27 Scotland: A route of the senses over the Orkneys
Kirkwall/Mainland. Here is nothing. Treeless hills bald-swept by the wind, on which cows and sheep graze, into the landscape strewn grey-cleaned sheet metal-covered farmer little houses. Between them reflect smooth seas and bays endless sky, on which the clouds dance. They turn Pirouetten pile up themselves up, paint wild, racing monsters or dab small Schäfchen in the blue, which can become threateningly dark grey in the next moment, black even or harmlessly pale-blue-pink.
