Listening to nature sound. Waiting for the perfect quarry. My heart thumps; my fingers frozen. Here they come, too beautiful to shoot.
Listening to nature sound. Waiting for the perfect quarry. My heart thumps; my fingers frozen. Here they come, too beautiful to shoot.
In the grass and trees and streams live all the little wild things I love so much. I hold very still – they do not know I am not a mountain.