Moments of brilliance, where breathing is beautiful and unnatural cones of light beam a pathway through the suspended dew, where the realisation of being alive is on the tip of the mind. The air is damp, excitement coils around the guy like a python to a deer. The whereabouts of where such feelings have derived are unknown, but the mystery is altogether appetising. The sweet smell of dug up roads allude to an existence more primal, the soft patting of steps sometimes meet a crunch. Things are in motion, it’s the remembering that poses a problem, but much like winter to a flower this can be overcome.