I’m pulled above the canopy by a youthful lust for fear. As I gain footing a small bird stages a balletic landing in the neighbouring pine crown, glancing over at me unimpressed.
10 minutes later we’re back on the trail, In a feathery mood with seemingly uncompromisable mental and physical impetus. Time itself bows in respect, granting a detour if so is favoured.
I bet I could appreciate Norway if I learned to mentally separate culture and nature.
Old guys on the internet.
Walking in the woods writing songs on off-brand post-it notes.
washing my shoes in the washing machine
There's something oddly comforting about the realization that I’ll probably never be entirely content with anything I create. Think like a cook. Proper evaluation will morph all finished results into crap.
Trying To Wake Up Every Day