Lost Days: Extremadura

In an olive grove in Extremadura, the winter sun warming my face, the Serins and Sparrows chirping around me, playfully darting from apple tree to persimmon to olive, the undulating velvety green hills in the distance‚Ķ I sit, motionless. Time drifts over me like air, thoughts come and go gently and I bask in the… Continue reading Lost Days: Extremadura

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