and this oneand this one but couldn't go inside any of them. Was there some sort of secret handshake to access? Did I have to calibrate my visit to the precise twenty minutes of the month when a caretaker returned to make sure it hadn't collapsed into the Atlantic? Was my only lighthouse thrill this trip to be the mysterious stranger captured in this ill-angled photograph?
Zoom if you must, ladies, but he was a refugee from a nearby tour bus. Where are the semi-naked lighthouse keepers?
By the way, feather girl here would have had to be in a coma to have endured the icy spray of the Atlantic and felt nothing but the lightkeeper's rapture. My toes could barely stand it.