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The Mountain

This morning I woke up with excitement. In a moments time, I travel back to the mountains. A journey I have made before and intend to make time and time again. It's in the mountains where I feel alive. The brotherhood, the realness of action, the breath. All of which mean more than can be explained in words. But for those of us who return undoubtedly leave a piece of ourselves behind. These pieces scattered throughout the airy cliffs of our travels forever change us. They forever rest upon the slopes of the mountain. There they wait solemn and quiet until in the comfort of our homes, or the caring touch of a woman's skin they start to whisper...The alpine starts, the warmth of the rising sun, the challenge, all giving us a glimpse of a different time. Beckoning us back to the Mountain.

Potrero Chico, Mexico

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