On
the 19th of March 2010 my friend Galeo and I did a
presentation at the wonderful but too brief institution that was the
annual Freewheeling Festival, held at Stanford Valley. Our idea was
to share, through words and images, the inspiration and importance of
the simple act of walking. Among other things we read alternate
pieces of our own writings, that had been inspired by
walking. Between us on a screen ran a continual set of images from
our various walks, mostly of mountains. Black and white, fading into
each other. We called the presentation, Giving Voice to Walking.
These
were the pieces I read:
It
was just a walk. A short walk. And yet something perhaps about the
low angle of the sun’s light from behind the clouds, and the
response it invoked in the landscape, and in the scrubby
vegetation at my feet,
