the midnight photographer of Stenness

“It’s a shame they’re not all here anymore,” says the midnight photographer of Stenness.

Perhaps if we count them, and keep coming back to count them, they’ll start to return. But for now there are just the three giants.

“Thirty seconds is all I need.”

He needs us out of shot and our torches off. We stand, three dwarf stones, for half a minute. Enough time for the clouds aglow with moonlight to cast their magic.

“You can go to them now. Sorry if I seemed bossy just then.”

I step toe-to-toe with each giant and look straight up. I can’t see their faces, just pure black mountains in the sky.

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