When I am stitching them up, my creatures often tell me stories. One of my favorite stories that I've heard from them goes like this: Back in the Old Land there is a hill that moves. In the middle of the night, it hitches up its peat and scuttles about on skinny legs - much to the agitation of cartographers, travelers, and especially the little herder who lives on it. Now that I live in the small town of Hombrechtikon, Switzerland, I can easily imagine one of the many hills around me moving like this, creeping around at night, confusing me when I walk my dog in the morning.
right here buddy