There is something to be said for mountains. They are serene, their world a quiet transcendence of nature, a cornucopia of peace. I could sit for hours in the trees, allowing my thoughts to wander at the slightest breeze, feel the gentle sway of emotion and oneness that ebbs at my consciousness. I could wrap myself in the forest floor, pull the wind down to cover my body, feel the ancient stone beneath me offer its wisdom. I am safe from the outside world: separated from thrumming society and its unwanted pressures, free from interaction. Free in body and in mind; in the mountains, I can be the birds or the slate or the wind. I am uninhibited, I am wild. I am part of the mountain; I can feel its slowly eroding face smile, I can feel its conifers watch over me like sentinels, I can feel the ageless stone entreating me to join in its eternal dance with the seasons. There is something to be said for mountains. They are free.