The pleasures of walking

There is nothing like the first bite of an apple (thought B) at the crest of a hill, as you turn back to survey the landscape, super-oxygenated blood throbbing thick in your ears. The sight of swallows on a windy day, swooping in tight tangents over short grass, sweeping ascents with thrusters on full, laughing into the sky at the joy of it. A squirrel’s flight in thrilling semi-fear, tail high, over crackling seed pods and the wind raking waves in the maize and the sound of the sea in the leaves and the way the light rises and falls.

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