Woke up in the mood for wildness and physical activity. Trekking across the landes et tourbières I could have been the only person in the world. Not a sound did I hear except for the wind raking the heather and a choir of curlews. It's out here on the feral heathland and sweating marshes I feel most alive, most attuned to the elements, most in my skin. Sitting on a rock in an abandoned quarry, I could see the first nuclear power station in France and the signals mast shelled by Breton separatists in 1974, but what fills my eyes are the oldest hills in Europe and the wide emptiness of the Yeun Elez, entrance to the celtic underworld. This land sheds layers of time in a moment, so there is nothing between me and those who left the menhirs; we are united by silence and breath, stone music and sunshine.
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