The Fleeting One
When kea stomp on the roof just before the alarm, when the sunrise catches like fire from one cloud to the next slowly growing in intensity, when the wind holds its breath for 30 seconds and then “SNAP” the light goes out behind grey clouds like the flipping of a switch. That’s when you know this moment was meant to be, in all its fleeting grandeur.
Thank you, Murchison Mountains for letting me spend four days in your special hidden valleys and on your wind-swept tops.
