There is something about being on a precipice, physically and metaphorically, that divides me. Part of me fears the void, fears the drop, yet it also fascinates me. At the same time I feel closest to life, to the amazing things, to good things, joy, happiness and elation. The precipice is a border, a fine line between the end or the future, it’s the stuff of dreams. At first I didn’t even notice the woman, petite, fragile, pale, leaning backwards against the cold rock, a thousand foot drop on three sides of her. But as my eyes focussed on this minuscule organic body in the centre of vast and ancient landscape I saw that she was basking in the afternoon sunlight, her arms spread wide and face towards the universe above. She seemed calm, content, giving herself up to the awareness of space, distance, earth and solitude, a spiritual awareness not of God but of her own existence.
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