1: It was pigs for my dad. I can’t get on board with that. He spent his life staring at pigs. He was a research scientist. I’m just a guy with a computer and unlimited access to photos of goats to stare at. An hour spent staring at goats might sound like a waste. But day by day the hours accumulate, like hair gathering on a barbed wire fence. And a life spent staring at goats speaks for itself.
2: Here’s a favorite. I’ll describe it. The setting is a well-kept paddock, green fields visible in the background. The photographer and paddock apparently stand on top of a hill, the fields sprawl downhill. The upper right-hand corner of the picture contains the barn. The lighting is soft and gray, imported from Yorkshire.
Three goats occupy the center of the frame.
A Fruit Salad of Harm 