On beauty

In which FP muses a little


That long post, it must have drained me out. I have lots of long posts to write: Indie Comic Book Of The Month, for example, or Films I’ve Seen Recently. I’ve run out of words to write them with, though.

So here’s an ink polaroid. Yesterday: the view from Egton, in Yorkshire, down into Eskdale. The road drops beneath us, out of sight, past a “25%” gradient sign;* beyond is a mist-filled valley, green, pale green, rising back up to the moors again on the far side. Beyond the horizon smoke rises from heather-burning, blending into the mist. Deep in the valley, a moving line of puffing cloud marks out a train heading south. Apart from the train, nothing is moving, nothing in sight, but nevertheless it feels like a quietly active day. I’m feeling slightly nervous, partly because I’ve never put quite so much trust in my brakes before. I’m surrounded by unassuming beauty.

* That’s 1-in-4 in old money

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