Hergest Ridge

For the last few days the city lies under a blanket of spring fog. The snow recedes, the earth bleeds water flooding everything. From my sixth floor residence, I watch the peaks of trees and the few tall buildings hold their own above the milky mess that clings to the earth below.

I take another shot of Troika, attempting to smother a realisation… the realisation that where ever I go I will find landscapes that leave the soul breathless, while the absence of the people I’ve left behind will forever leave me feeling fragmented.