Working on my writing today, I had a moment of joy after transcribing & then randomising my mountain record journal, and seeing what came from that.
Some strange (very strange) and heart-catching beauty has been revealed, and I feel like I can do something wonderful with bits of it, (ie. combining parts of the text with my drawings or prints, as part of my book of the mountain).
Here are three examples:
Golden light, ravens, later Surpassing beautiful. Sky in flocks, closing the day low Such cold. Such water, black peat opened All quiet and softened on its shoulders. Colours high blue clear.
Sea breeze. East. Northwind cold like a knife Stillness. A raven lifting up moon through haze. Quiet and on the other side. but it must be the clouds Darkening. lit as we leave.
glooming. Storm coming tonight. yellow to blue above. south of west, north of West. All dampness. Colours out the voices of the others. and gorse, greens and reds bruised glow up as the light dims. Paying respect to this, the beauty. What does it mean? High cloud, brittle ice, Sun setting yellow in us.