13. September 2019

Swallows swooped and whistled, insects settled, and an eagle glided high above. The light on the hill across the valley drew up a veil of shadow from the ground. My breath was music through my flute and the sound of my footsteps a drum beat that soothed me. Nothing grand or spectacular seemed to happen in the month I spent alone off-grid in the wild. It was remarkably simple and easy.