find your way home

This summer, I feel an exile here in this landscape of hills and moorland. My head is full of white empty beaches, scenes lit by that clear light of the western isles. If I try hard enough, I can almost smell the evening descending on the machair, feel the salt wind in my hair. Almost. I’m still sat here, fidgety with the feeling of being in the wrong place.

One more week, and we’re off adventuring to islands, old and new. I swear next summer, I’m booking up ferries, taking a tent and running away for the whole holidays…

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Filed under favourite places, travels

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