Pen and watercolour on paper – 2003
30 X 42cm
At this point I had left the mountain and was a shell of a person. But I knew it was the right thing to do, both at the time and now. That walk took years- that were over in a moment.
There was so much from those mountain years that I wanted to hold onto, but I didn’t know how when every fibre of my being wanted to start with a completely clean slate.
I tried, but the flowers died soon after picking and left nothing but a trail of dead stalks.