I know nothing about Forfar, Scotland. But I'm envisioning a windswept medieval town that's dotted with crumbling stone houses, splotches of multihued lichen providing the only bits of color on what's left of the buildings' gray walls. A forlorn cemetery lurks in a patch of tall grass, the embossed dates of birth and death on the tombstones long ago worn smooth. It's not a sad place, exactly. It's more sullen, resigned to the realization that so much more has gone by... More >>>