Legs ache even though i'm just sitting here. phantom climb still in my muscles maybe silence is a muscle too one i've been training longer than i thought, years of not saying, of letting the mountain do the talking and the wind carry away what little i did manage to get out. Funny how the quiet on the ridge, especially in winter, it’s not just the absence of noise but a presence all its own, like the air itself is listening holding its breath with you a shared secret between you and the stone and sky. it’s the kind of silence that makes you hear your own thoughts too loud, everything amplified. maybe that’s why i avoid it sometimes i don’t know it feels safer to be climbing than to just be.