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“I enter the water over the scree of the snow melt. Sharp underfoot the geology quickly changes to cloudy turquoise, and soon after the thrill of cold water passes through me. Around me, cracking rocks, rushing water and marmot whistles – an elevated chorus in the space of a mountain range calls clear around folded peaks.”

“A breeze
Cool and slow
Moving over me very slightly
I turn east
To feel my eyelashes disturb its journey

I lean on warm rock
Eyes closed
I see the minutes – days – years
I feel the mountain pass”