Braced in walking boots, I wrap my coat snugly about myself and elevate the zipper till it starts to pleasingly choke. The wind has a banshee roar about it and all exposed skin feels the tingle of frigid air. I can feel my nose turning red as my sinuses protest the chill.
The sun provides glare but nil warmth and the expanse of the moor soaks it in and expresses a deep yet rugged green. I walk and smile as each step produces a crunch upon the cold shale of the path. Peering to the distance I see the same as where I am, solidarity and remoteness without regret. Once again I step out of a life surrounded, uncaged and free to ramble. Directionless, wonderfully directionless and devoid of task or duty.
Energizing, revitalizing, replenishment of the zing thing. Never has it been so clear that I am in fact a battery and one that is charged by denial of the things I am supposed to be doing. These are the things that make up me, that may bother the other, but so be it.
Forward to the next village, the next stage where the show must go on. Fearless, but to be frank one must be frank. The great pleasure of diving back into the civilization and thumbing my nose at the apparent "opportunities". Some may hint at arrogance, fuck them, so how's that for arrogance?
A handful of cards, and I'm not the one who shall fold.
You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em... Walking boots really are the best for stirring up the right kind of inner radicalism.
ReplyDeleteIndeed..... My next holiday I think may have to be a rambling one.
ReplyDeleteThat's a bewdiful photo.
ReplyDeleteMakes you want to get away from it all, eh Alexis!
ReplyDelete