Sunday, April 29, 2018

写作和徒步 The written climbs

Not sure when,
probably in high school,
probably the annual hiking tournament
that I started to learn the skills of hiking.
It wasn't till when I was in Tassie that
I started to learn the joy of it.

The joy of no other sports could offer.
It could be a jolly day with a group of mates.
It could also be a few hours solemnly,
walking on your own
in the woods of unknown.

The breathe that you pushed through
reminded you that your life belongs to no one
but you.

The steps, the scenery,
birds, wombats, and the occasional
Kookaburra remind you that
the world do not belong to your kind,
but peasant lives of others too.

Where there is no time, and nothing matters.
衡量不了的时空里,生活没有琐碎的事

那年,我们越过的那片梦地
The Overland track

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