On being above the line

on-being-above-the-line

The chill of the fog hung in the valley like a cold weight.

And walking up to the boy’s fields, higher on the hillside, felt laboured.

Until I passed the line where the sun broke through.

Slanting across the valley from the other side, it brought everything to life. And me to warmth.

Nothing changed, yet everything changed.

How often does finding another space shift the way we see and feel?

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