An unseen hand seems to lift the veil of mist, which has shrouded the high peaks, all day. I set off for an evening row.
A seal, hauled out on Bark Island, looks on; his eyes following me with a slow, inquisitive sweep of the head.
The 'rocks' beside him move; and resolve themselves into a pup nuzzled up to its mother. The mother fans her bifurcated tail, languidly.
The pup swivels its head, to study me, with large, soulful, dark eyes.
I row off as silently as I can.
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Location:Ireland
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