So, visiting my neighbour’s place, I was intrigued by what he did for a living.
“Well, I’m a collector.”
“Of what?”
“People”
“People?”
“Yes. When it’s their time, I have to put on my old black cloak, carry one of those,” he said motioning to the wall (as per the photo), “and collect them.”
“You carry a scythe?”
“Don’t worry, Christopher, as you see, right now I am currently neither wearing my cloak nor am I holding on of my scythes.”
Suddenly, I clicked. My neighbour is ‘Death’. For now, not mine.
England's England 