Here it finally is. Something I have wanted to begin for a long time. But now, so close to the end of my stay here in the mountains, there's probably no better time than the present to remember what I have seen and experienced. So, through this blog, and my pictures, I hope that I can relate the beginning of my adventures I've dreamed of so long.
The title picture is one of many views overlooking hundreds of kilometers of mountains in Japan. This particular picture I took from Soni Kougen, in eastern Nara Prefecture.
When you're amongst them they seem pretty ordinary, or is that just because I've become accustomed to seeing them. It's when you climb to the top, to get that fresh breeze and clear your mind, that you see them for what they are. Majestic. Alone, but together.
Footprints? Well, I was talking to my friends Steve and Erin the other day about how I was standing at the classroom window watching the field below littered with footprints. I could see mine from far away. "The field has memory", I murmured. Despite the thaw everyday they remained there as everyone logged their arrival to and departure from school, squeezing the icy water from the soggy ground.
The prints filling with water during the day, like when you dig a hole in the sand at the beach. Transformed into a glassy spectacle overnight, cracking and crunching under my weight. I wonder what it looks like on weekends.
Footprints never disappear. It's as if every step you take on the ground travels deep into the Earth and becomes a memory.
I leave my footprints wherever I go.
The title picture is one of many views overlooking hundreds of kilometers of mountains in Japan. This particular picture I took from Soni Kougen, in eastern Nara Prefecture.
When you're amongst them they seem pretty ordinary, or is that just because I've become accustomed to seeing them. It's when you climb to the top, to get that fresh breeze and clear your mind, that you see them for what they are. Majestic. Alone, but together.
Footprints? Well, I was talking to my friends Steve and Erin the other day about how I was standing at the classroom window watching the field below littered with footprints. I could see mine from far away. "The field has memory", I murmured. Despite the thaw everyday they remained there as everyone logged their arrival to and departure from school, squeezing the icy water from the soggy ground.
The prints filling with water during the day, like when you dig a hole in the sand at the beach. Transformed into a glassy spectacle overnight, cracking and crunching under my weight. I wonder what it looks like on weekends.
Footprints never disappear. It's as if every step you take on the ground travels deep into the Earth and becomes a memory.
I leave my footprints wherever I go.
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