The Existence of a Raft

An unidentified object brushes against my side for the nth time today. A trout perhaps, or even a decaying plastic bag. Only two visitors today. One a man, one a boy. His son I presume.  Proceeded to throw stones in an attempt to reach me but missed every time. The water seems colder than usual, greyer and thicker. Whatever substance resides beneath me seems rather thick and is clearly dislodged easily enough. Still no sign of a maintenance man or woman, maybe then I'll make it out of this lake. Until then, I continue to slowly deteriorate.

This shot was also taken in Lincoln. In the middle of nowhere lay a lake packed full of fish but no fishermen. Banks of thick grey clay surrounded the lapping water making it muddy and thick. The odd fish splashed at the surface whilst 20 or so miniature starlings skimmed the waves as they dive bombed for flies. The odd time a passer-by would investigate but it stood alone most of the time. This short story related to the day I passed and, to my surprised, noticed a man with his son throwing pebbles into the lake.