Am I blazing, as I walk this long forgotten path? Am I on fire for the one I follow and those who will come after? Is this a flaming place, too holy for sandals, where the grass of the field closes over my head and each step is carefully placed for fear of disturbing some serpent, crushing some snail; soil untrod, new and virginal? Am I then, a pioneer, processing out from the centre, a spiral wanderer, heart beating more loudly as the thrum of urban traffic fades away, the edges calling me?
Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015