In the morning, sore and coffeeless, the light pale and cold, Theresa got us lost on the way back to her car and we found ourselves in an area that didn’t seem park-like at all, but rather hostile, alien, the landscape erupting in sharp, slate outcroppings like the scales of some enormous buried dragon. We got so turned around, do you remember? It was like it always is when you’re lost, a bit funny at first—the camaraderie of it all—and then not so funny. By Nicholas Rombes.
