arriving to the Isle of Skye

the wonder

I am heading North, where the air is fresh and the stillness of nights even internally perceptible. there, there is no time, just space, a space that blurs between the green and blue nuances of the hills. This North is remote, the houses become more and more scattered and the landscape wilder. I prepare my vehicle in the morning, I drink a coffee to go at the small village shop where I spent the night. I sip it with a certain nervous anticipation: today the destination is the Isle of Skye. The road is one, long and continuous.

I leave behind a road passing through dense forest trees. From the window I only glimpse an horizon that is beginning to widen, but that I struggle to focus: the view is unsettled from speed and it allows me only a fleeting glance.

Between the branches, the reflection of the water, the leaves and the sky become almost one, like a blurry picture, one of those that, perhaps did not focus right. The water shines at the faint sun rays, creating a mirror from the surface of the lochs.

Lochs are a particular place, where the water is enclosed by the surrounding land, as if it would be hold and sheltered from the perpetual movements of rivers and seas: isolated, protected and peaceful.

a Loch on my way to the Isle of Skye

Then, when I finally reach one of these lochs, a feeling of joyful calm encapsulates me and I pull over to linger and explore: the shore is far away and I am able to walk on the grass muffled by a soft, moist soil - the undulating field, delicate pink flowers here and there, is so green that I feel my lungs expanding with pure oxygen...