How the fire, the need.
The energy, the endurance of the mind. The fire. Mountains tremble, the world rising.
A piece of writing from my first day back in Scotland.
I return, in a short time, to the weary lands of Scotland. A battle scared landscape, long and old. People tired mountains, open plains, a land grasping to hold on to what it was. A wild place.
The land makes me melancholy. The terrible carving of a place, until there was little to none left but the bones.
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Thus in a day I have found the place where the land is not weeping. It is still as it was. Still as it should be in more places, a place so close to the terror of the tourist, to the fake, the empty.
The last of a truly ancient and mysterious world. My favourite in all of Scotland, Glen Affric.
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