Cold, windy November nights out on vast Yorkshire scars are uncompromising. Few dare to face the stern elements, yet that evening it saw an artist venturing out into the void.
Weary after a day on foot, it was dark as I was heading back to my car. I wasn’t far from the shore, but the terrain remained treacherous, dotted with waterlogged hollows waiting for the incautious traveller.
I stopped to assess my next move… and realised just how alone I was. I haven’t seen anyone for hours. I had no phone reception. The recessed rumble of the sea in the distance was setting an ambience of estrangement.
Moments like this bring clarity to mind. Awareness. Peace. And hunger. I haven’t had anything to eat for most of the day.