Single Malts - and other odd Musings

The Mist, The Interval, The Sea

© August '11   photo by smck
The only sound is low soughing shore, wind whisper, grass sibilants, mind mixing time, all blending into that quintessential  feeling of alone with self and spirit of all - that pull that takes us into the back of beyond and cleanses us for another go at the inhabited world.  Sometimes it is the shore, or a walk out into the dark of fogged night with pale moon struggling through, or adrift on a slow moving stream - but I find it here on this island more than any other place.  Home. 

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