Here’s another chance for you, dear reader, to hop in the pilot seat and drive the story.
This week’s selection is yet another snap from our Spain travels, although in this instance we have crossed the border into Gibraltar. (You know, that place where The Rock Of is.)
I was traipsing around, hoping to get some modestly-decent photos whilst keeping one eye on all the various points at which one could easily tumble from the top of The Rock to the bottom. They don’t have lot of restricted areas and warning signs up here, both because it would impede the view (which is stunning in all directions) and they expect people to behave in a decent manner.
I find this a refreshing European viewpoint when it comes to personal safety. They tell you once to mind your surroundings and then they leave you to your own devices. If you choose to do something stupid and life-risking, and your crumpled body ends up 500 feet below on the sands of Bangers and Mash Beach, with swim-suited Norwegian children poking at you with a stick, well, that’s your own dumb-ass fault.
In America, when one visits places like this, they are filled with apocalyptic warning signs that screw up every photo you try to take, and there are barricades everywhere, blocking access to all the good vantage points where you would want to take said photos. If you dare to wander off the Carefully Delineated Pathway of Least Possible Lawsuits, storm troopers race out, whisk you away, and deport you to Mexico, even though you were born in the States. (And good luck getting back into the country if that happens, at least until Trump gets defeated in the next election.)
Back to the monkey on the mountain. (He’s actually a Barbary macaque. And he might be a she. It’s not like I walked up to him/her, pulled on a rubber glove, and checked out the plumbing. Because I’m not a dumb-ass.)
He seems deep in thought.
He seems to be studying something that he has spotted.
And his perch is very high up (his satellite TV reception is five full bars!), so he can see lots of things that are going on in the world. Happy things, sad things, irritating things, whimsical things. Things that might be happening in your own country or province or hamlet or home. He’s very smart, this guy. Monkeys are. (Excuse me, Barbary macaques.) After all, he and his kind have managed to live on this rock for hundreds of years, with very few of them ending up on the bad end of a Norwegian pokey stick.
What, dear reader, is he thinking?
What would you ask him if you could?
Okay, then. I think that’s enough fodder to get your mind clicking, hmm?