We spent the day exploring riverside hides and watching the birds feed. We played “What am I talking about?” and got back indoors before the rain got going.
One of them was asleep on my front; the other one tugged at my hand, slouching her way down the wet, cobbled street. Both were deathly tired.
My partner has no interest in going to the United States, but I would go tomorrow if you let me. I’m no longer in a position to do solo travelling, but that’s the life I have chosen.
A separation resolved in absentia. There are no lines on the face of time.
We barrelled down a gravel road to a steep drop, descending in a terrifying corkscrew. We stepped on to the glacier, took pictures, and knew it would soon be gone.
We sat on a patch of earth, the only nettle-free patch we could find within this scrap of woodland, and we listened. We had fallen in love with the knot of patchy trees as soon as we had climbed over the stile, and so here we sat.
I don’t feel I can say I know a country unless I have peered in to its geographical heart and seen what it is made of.