There are places where I click. Fit in, like the final piece of puzzle, like an elastic cord snapped back suddenly into place. As if some force, come invisibility is pulling me there, pushing at my memories, telling me there’s another layer deeper than I can get to.
It’s more than memory, more than nostalgia. An eerie feeling of having lived a life before, a piece of me still ingrained in unmoving rock, imprinted on the air. Do I believe this? I don’t have an answer. Just a feeling. Just that feeling.
A place of wild waves and ancient stone. A place of beating sun and parched, dry sand. A hill, a view stretching for miles. A desolate moor where the wind screams and rain stabs skin relentlessly. A valley of rolling hills and timeless folklore tales.
That pull is in all of them. And all of them are in me.