Wherever you go your mind will follow. Some fill up their lives led in the midst of rolling hills and roaring coastlines with busyness, through each other and whatever remain accessible there and then. 

To those who show the way to be contented no matter the amount that is presented, here and now, I pay my respect in witnessing. 

For the self, to be less, is to be more. Less and more aren’t really containers, but capacities to respond. When visibility is intentionally not measured, the indescribable can take hold. 

February on Papa Stour, with no other visitors on ferries crossing over and back, the wind lets you know why. 

A rugged sea stack rises from churning blue-green water, with waves crashing against steep, rocky cliffs beneath a cloudy sky.
photo: AX Archive

Bracing it and walk the coastline for about four hours we reached our limits. Mouths weren’t allowed to open for air, while nostrils felt shut by the forces of gusts. Turn one’s back against it, a moment of relief fought between shaky gravity and unceasing drumming in the ear channels. 

Ali, my partner, started to nourish her path of sharing sustenance with others in recent years. The process is one that’s absent of anxieties and rush, yet not absent of certitude in potentials and values. I sense her knowing’s spacious qualities, with a steadiness that float her steps with strength. 

Gravity can be defied by the will of strong wind, allowing it to be momentary is the key to witnessing, in all directions. 

Ali in a hooded jacket sits on a sandy beach beside Nunu, both facing a rough, wind-whipped ocean under a gray sky.
photo: Shen Xin

We stopped briefly at Virda Field, finding shelter to plan our return. To set foot again required a surrendering. Not the same kind of surrendering as when one approaches cliffs’ edges, beholding magnificence, but one that required a bit more honesty. The body has endured while being aware of visions’ greediness. The speed of the moving pieces shall be followed, no matter the severity of rushed elements in the air. 

I tried to put UNEMENU on social media, and took them down once Ali decided that it’s not the right time yet. Time will not hold this decision against itself, becoming wind is a form a surrendering that let’s one feel it all at its arrival. 

I visualise the car door closing on the environment, our breathing returning to normal, and write with a contentedness that is rooted in the joy of departure of every moment. 

Nunu, a black and white border collie, sleeps curled up on a gray couch, resting its head on a cushion with a plaid blanket draped behind.
photo: AX Archive

UNEMENU