I live on those edgelands, passing from brick to wood from drains to rivers.
I wonder if the wind recognises the empty spaces where the leaves fell yesterday, or if the rain prefers to fall softly onto a field or a hard stone pavement that could be a sheet of granite... where do I search for the faces of my Gods... in the misty forest at twilight... or a solstice gathering at home.
Country or town our houses are no more than sophisticated and heated caves, our skyscrapers no more than soaring cliffs to birds.
Beauty is everywhere
Have a lovely week-end