I have always longed to be part of the outward life, to be out there at the edge of things, to let the human taint wash away in emptiness and silence….

Cold air rises from the ground as the sun goes down. The eye-burning clarity of the light intensifies. The southern rim of the sky glows to a deeper….

There is no mysterious essence we can call a 'place'. Place is change. It is motion killed by the mind, and preserved in the amber of memory..

Whatever is destroyed, the act of destruction does not vary much. Beauty if vapour from the pit of death..

Wandering flushes a glory that fades with arrival..

Vision with action can change the world..