The river saw the Romans

When I left the house it was as if the quiet had recast the buildings as rocks and boulders. As if crags had grown around the pathways. Ridges and cliffs, the roads merely clefts between them.

It wasn't silent though, I could hear the river rushing and on the bank, I watched it and thought 'What does it care?'

Some things are bigger than people.

The tip is on the far bank, it is grassed over and horses graze amongst the methane vents. In the dusk light, its silhouette was of a mountain, the horses becoming a wild herd against the fading purple.

A reminder of places near but now distant. A reminder of the wild. A reminder of what it would be, to climb above it all and notice how small we all are in comparison to the whole.

Wash yer hands and be nice to each other and that x