of Lars J. Nilsson

As I was at my mother’s cottage in the deep woods of Sweden and not, as it were, in NYC, I had limited spectators on my run. But hey! The sheep looked interested (and interesting, I was getting a bit peckish) and the birds fled as I flew, so I’m not complaining. It was a brilliant mid-autumn afternoon, with the sun hanging low in the sky and all leafs just barely starting to change colours…