Saskia bounded over the tufted grass and over the brow of the hill, but instead of letting her limbs gather speed all the way to the creek she stopped as if her feet were magnetized to the field. There in the middle of the grassy expanse was the most pointless gate in the world; six feet tall, iron, with curls on it's curls and a top that reminded her of the mosque. On either side there was no fence at all, it's blackened catch dangled in mid-air as if resting on some unseen barrier. It was some kind of joke! Excellent! She rushed on it like the last iced buns at the market and lifted the latch. About now someone should reveal themselves, but they didn't. It swung forwards with a creak as if it were mounted on hinges. Saskia took out her phone for a picture, automatically uploading it to Facebook. Then she walked right though, another selfie on the threshold. Had she turned back she would have seen no gate at all, an empty field, with the hedgerow taller...