The stench of decaying rabbitsfeet hangs in the dank, fly-infested air. Bits of fur and random vertebrae lay scattered about the dirt. A squirrel chatters in the distance, unaware that it will soon die. But this is also a place of life.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
The den of the vixen
The old, abandoned park office building. Once a place of smiling faces and childrens' laughter, it is now a place where small creatures go when they die.
The stench of decaying rabbitsfeet hangs in the dank, fly-infested air. Bits of fur and random vertebrae lay scattered about the dirt. A squirrel chatters in the distance, unaware that it will soon die. But this is also a place of life.
The stench of decaying rabbitsfeet hangs in the dank, fly-infested air. Bits of fur and random vertebrae lay scattered about the dirt. A squirrel chatters in the distance, unaware that it will soon die. But this is also a place of life.
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Very cute!
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