“My fears of rain had not been justified, for it had turned into one of those bright autumn afternoons that seem to pierce the soul with their particular beauty, a golden light on the land and the shadows sharp-edged, and the soft light was kind to the house. Nothing could soften those stark outlines, but on a distant green hill the sun shone, and suddenly it did not seem as isolated as it had been. ”
Photographs taken on the moors above Haworth, Autumn 2014
“I pulled the collar of the greatcoat high, kept my head down as I ran. I could see the Shawsdrop road and anything on the Shawsdrop road could see me, but it was empty. I thanked God for old uncle Jack and the derelict farmland, uninhabited, without anyone to see or betray me. I kept alongside the high, roughly built stone walls. Followed the seam of ownership, built out of grey stone.
I heard hooves, or thought I did, on the wind. I dived low behind the wall; looked through its many holes, and the wind whistled through the jagged gaps. I looked at the road, and saw nothing. Waited there for many a minute.”