It must be the death-masque of a court-lady. Or something else entirely.
As a teetotaler I haven’t set foot in a liquorshop in a long time. For myself, that is. I bought wine in Ísafjörður but that was for Peter. It looks like this shop is well stocked on whiskey’s. Irish whiskey. I think the Scots follow the English in writing whisky, don’t they? How atypical.
Sometimes a picture jumps out for me. This is one of them. I really like all the reflections going on here in the shop, in the mirror, in the window and bouncing back.
Fish on a plate. Which reminds me of the time I had fish and chips from Rick Stein. It was a dull and gray winterday in Padstow, which should be called Padstein because every other shop is owned by Rick Stein. And there were queues lining up outside the fish and chips shop. The fish and chips was good, though.
It’s a star. And it’s a flower. It’s a starflower.
Seen at display in the shop.
It’s for sale. Contrary to the sweater which is reflected in the window.