Disaster danced on the edge of madness, until it took to its course, falling into a depth of distance and despair. We could not restore a sense of measure, as the lines faded from our frames. Stories of whispering pines and solitary stones, stories of coursing rivers and stilled mountains. Existence is co-dependent on the architecture of its place. Bound by our senses, grounded by the Earth as we float effortlessly in Heavens bounty. We must go back, retrace our path, leave a message for those that would follow. To see the plentiful abundance of sharing this most sacred view. To stand on the edge of madness and walk back to our center.
Image by: Oystein Sture Aspelund