Of solitude is this glory

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I love – when winter comes, the sky is engraved with bare twigs, like notes that have long been waiting for a fair spare stave to jump in. And that smoke permeating the night sings a song exactly the same, which recalls the wanderer wrapped in a sheer sheet of light for me. Of solitude is this glory.

via Photo Challenge: Solitude

p.s. and I like Gjertsen’s entry

 

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