The long climb up through the woods; layers of mushy leaves underfoot – ochre, burnt sienna; the rays of a low autumn sun piercing the branches. The plateau takes us by surprise, space opening out around us: the crests of the hills, the forests of spindly white trees hugging their slopes, their branches powdered with snow; up above, the fresh winter sky.
Later on, back down in the valley, the false summits conceal the higher ground, the hilltops hiding from sight the winter wonderlands above, the solitary worlds waiting to be discovered higher, deeper, further beyond.
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