The cliffs

The cliffs march on and on, like a wall above me. I start to wonder what’s up there, above the bright rim of the sky. Perhaps it’s just the lure of the unknown – the wall is stout and tall and unbroken, except for the waterfalls, which thunder through gorges like chimneys, narrow and dark and slick with spray.

  1. It’s very rewarding for meto hear that this has meant something to one of my readers. Thank you for commenting.

  2. Reblogged this on Wandering Aloud and commented:
    This really resonates for me – summing up so much of how I have felt for so long.

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