I Wrote This In The Highlands - Blog Posts
sealladh
their majesty was impossible to comprehend.
it was not a view that could be captured and bottled in a picture, reflected as it was in the eye of a camera. it was more -
vast and swelling even without an orchestral score. it was the impossibility, perhaps:
the stretch of the water, endless in its breadth, the patter of rain against lush grass, the vibrance of flowers unfurled against an overcast sky.
it was fog on the opposite coast, a river cutting through the hills.
it was all at once a tender kiss and a giddy laugh, ancient and ephemeral and undisturbed.
of course it inspired words - endless poetry, song, folklore, myth. for what was left when even pictures could not suffice?
you needed to live it, feel it, breathe it, and even then it was not enough, an endless waterfall with only a droplet slipped between wanting lips.
it was simply too much - for how could anyone begin to understand the edge of the world? It tasted of endings,
it tasted of beginnings.