When K met me, she asked how someone with a profile photo showing them leading a big roan horse loaded with trail gear down a steep mountainside could possibly........live in a suburban town and work in an office.
Sometimes I think just the same thing. Why? And what next?
Rather than live somewhere more adventurous, where horses remain a part of rural culture, and far enough from the sea that the sky is often bright and clear. Like Miclosoara / Miklosvar (depending upon one's mother tongue), where I photographed this group back in August.
Here's my profile photo. It sums up just who I am below the veneer of normality put on for the benefit of employers and neighbours.
I try to appear fairly respectable because it's helpful that my employer pays me. And I've just mown the front lawn so that the neighbours don't think that I'm dragging down the area.
Also, my house looks better than the one a hundred yards along the road where an abandoned car graces the overgrown lawn. I win on two counts.
So, looking at my photo, K is well informed. More particularly, about my essence, the soul hungering for open space and hills, the wanderer, the man who delights in a good horse, the traveller seeking a cosy cottage to share tales of the trail, one who appreciates a good journey and a welcome arrival.
One lives to travel, and savours arrival in a lovely place inhabited by good people.
It's too bad we can't make a living doing our heart's desire. Only a lucky few can.
Posted by: Shirley Nicholas | October 05, 2017 at 06:15 PM