In the run-up to Halloween, we present some more or less unsettling images of life in the capital.
Robert Burns, The Banks o' Doon:
'How can ye chant, ye little birds
And I sae fu' o' care!'
We begin with fear and feathers, and three unchancy burds portending either no good or nothing at all depending on your disposition. A crow. A magpie. And a pigeon.
Dark memories
The portent.
Never underestimate the familiar.
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Location
