I think this is my paradise
Imaking my way on a path through chalets
deserted for the winter
Crunching fresh snow under my feet
Listening to the drip from the long icicles
tightly holding the chalet eaves
Feeling joy as every breath savours the crisp clean air
Beside me the river rushes with
reassuring urgency
Crystal clear
Inviting me in

If only it wasn’t icy

Sun smiling from the snow clad peaks against a backdrop of a blue that paint swatches would call,
sky

I can hear noises in the distance of the valley waking up and working

The smell of woodsmoke heightens as I meet a lady scattering ashes over her icy path
We have a brief interaction and I wonder if she knows I am English

Technology measures my every step, every beat of my heart
But I feel it in my lungs and my body

Striping off layer after layer
Stopping for water and to find my sun glasses
Sun blazing down on a chalet painted a sort of icy sage
The path winds it way upwards
And I with it
Breathing fast and deep

And I feel the wonder of being alive