Take A Seat . . .

Peeking around another deserted farmhouse just out of town . . . crept carefully up the creaking, crumbling staircase . . . opened a bedroom door and for a moment I thought I had been transported to the Bates Motel. Glanced behind to see if Norman or his mother were lurking with murder in their eyes and meat cleavers in their fists, but all was clear. So I took this picture and crept back down the stairs and out of the back door, wondering if it's perhaps time to watch Psycho again . . .