Windsurf|Issue 391 - November December 2019
She tucked her head down deep, eyes to the ground as she walked, she didn’t need to see the road ahead, she knew it well. The wild weather wouldn’t beat her today. Her headscarf wasn't fleeced, her coat wasn’t Gore-tex, and neither were waterproof, but she was. For her age was just a number, 70-80, it didn’t really matter, it was about the same as the number of steps per second she made on her quick pace to the shops, the closest of which are two miles away, a stroll by her standards. Her mode of transport is low in carbon emissions, high in #fitness goals, but she doesn’t feel the need to tell the world wide web that. She buys what she needs, not what she doesn’t, because when you’re walking you keep waste to a minimum, and she and her generation knows what it’s like to live without. This is the far west of Europe, the Atlantic the border to America. A vast rumbling ocean, the power of which strikes the coast with at times relentless ferocity, shaping both the hard rocks and those that dwell on its shores. There’s no room for anything but practicality in personality; stoicism weathers the storms. The weather shapes a sharp edge and tough skin, but the sea air has a lighter side, when I speak to the woman there’s a soft youthful lilt in her voice and a warmth to her disposition from someone who knows how to welcome strangers to her small coastal community. She has stories, secrets to share. Knowledge to freely give, all I have to do is listen.
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Issue 391 - November December 2019