This is perhaps the first time I don’t know what to say, or, better, I don’t want to say anything. This photo speaks volumes to me, and it’s easily one of my favourite shots, if not the favourite.
It was early spring in the Sierras; the nights were cold and the days windy. Away from paved roads, away from everybody, it felt as if I was the only person left in the world.
Then two other travelers passed me on their bikes, pedaling along the rocky road. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from them — something just felt so right at the moment. As if we were meant to be doing exactly what we were doing — as if we were meant to exist on the open road, as if we were meant to feel like the last people in the world, as if we were meant to feel the freest of all, looking up only to the majestic mountains towering above.
I can still feel the wind pulling on my shirt and hair. I can feel the bite of cold on my skin. I can hear the sound of my steps on the rocky road, I get blinded by the sun reflecting off the snow on the peaks. I hear the dry grasses whisper in the wind and the birds chirp as they welcome the season.
And it all makes me feel endlessly free.
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