Once, Peter and I hiked through the landscapes of the glorious Aspe Peninsula.

We chased mountain goats.

Mountain goats chased us.


The mountain goats are vicious, though one has taken to us, perhaps because we have been feeding it generous amounts of thistledown.


Day 5

It took me bloody two days to get to Blackville, which I chose based on its name (yes, I sometimes judge books by their covers). To my grave disappointment, however, Blackville was entirely white. I don't mean in terms of population, though that was also true. No; the buildings were white, the city hall made entirely of white marble (overtaxing the citizens, I'd guess), and even the bloody forest outside of town — a pleasant place, I saw a few rabbits — had only white trees. Birch!

Seems as if the town was founded by a fellow named Herbert Black. The current administration wanted to throw visitors a loop — I can say they bloody well did that! Only half a day and a night here, then I left in disgust.