It’s a beautiful autumn day in Wicklow, Ireland. Given that this is such a rare occurrence, your mother decided to make the most of it by taking you out to the park.

You seemed to be rather fascinated with the dried up orange-brown leaves, listening to them crunch beneath your little shoes as you stomped around. Calling out ignored, innocent demands of ‘Mommy, look at me!’.

Your mother wasn’t exactly the most engaged with you most times. Being borderline neglectful and just overall a bad parent. Leading you to often look for attention from other older figures. Including strangers, with you not having been taught the whole ‘stranger danger’ thing.

Today was no exception.

You were stood in front of a rather gentle looking man. His hair loosely tied back into a man bun, a black Trenchcoat draped over his shoulders, and an old looking notebook sat perched on his lap.

You’d been gifting him tiny handfuls of your beloved leaves, to which the man thanked you each time, complimenting the kindness of your offerings. All the while your mother was off on the other side of the park, carelessly engrossed in a conversation with another woman.