Lost in a Landscape: Scottow

Memory has a strange tonal range, there are sparks of colour in between the washes of grey and flat spots of black or white. I have a very distinct memory of first learning to ride a bike. Oddly for some reason that escapes me it wasn’t at the hands of a parent although I think they at least one was there. I was taught to balance on an unfeasibly slim piece of metal with wheels at the bottom by our neighbours’ daughter-in-law. We’d headed out of town, several adults and one four year old, with his shock of blond...

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