‘You see those rocks? The ones sitting on top of the mountain?’ He points at the ridge line. ‘They’re not rocks, they’re trolls.’
I look up and spot bumps among the peaks and smile. Of course they are, how could I have missed that detail? But my imagination did not stop with the boulders. Suddenly every other mountain was a sleeping giant.
Now, whenever I come across a boulder that has a bit too much character to simply be stone, I know the truth.
Rocks can be like clouds I guess.
I like the one with the wharf.
Great hairy troll.