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As I child I loved climbing trees and rocks, I liked the feeling of being higher up, just looking down instead of up for a change.

When eleven or so I then discovered how much I enjoyed the solitude of being atop a tree, hidden between branches, tucked away with a book, reading my way into fantasy worlds. One tree in particular was my ‘go to’ perch, but sadly it didn’t last when the next door neighbors thought I was spying on their nudist activities and chased me away.

In my twenties I did some rock-climbing in the Pyrenees. On one of the days I remember clambering to the top, secured from below, and turning around to the view behind of a valley behind me. It was breathtaking, even more so than the effort it took to get atop.

And while I may no longer be the climbing type I can’t help but look up at the clouds and wonder what it would be like to be up there looking down.

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