Empty Walks

 

Every now and then I go for a ramble. Or often a cycle. Just go, myself and my camera, trying to find... what? Some peace? Solace? Comfort?

The mountains on a weekday are almost always deserted, empty. Nothing but the sound of the wind, the glare of the sun or the patter of the rain, and the occasional sheep disturbs one's reverie.

Looking back, I went on those walks to get away from it all, but in that isolation all you have is what's inside your head, and it tends to dwell on what you're trying to get away from.

Next time, I'm bringing my whiskey flask.