Up there where buffeting winds converge and fog swathes in mystery the valley of shadow and silence, I awoke to the terrible weight of my own seclusion and loneliness. Beset and weary still, I climbed higher. Over the crags and boulders, the gloom clinging to me like a ghost, but a wildness growing in my chest, each pulse urging me onward with new fury until I stood, chest rising slowly, upon that rarified summit above the sea of fog. The grey immensity stretched out before me in endless waves. There was no horizon. Only the grey unending, farther than the mind could comprehend.
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