Ripples of Change - That Time I Almost Quit Travel

A stone is hurled towards a still lake, when it lands, tiny ripples spread outwards, becoming echoes in the water, undulating and growing, until it finally fades and the water is inert again. So here I stand with another stone in my hand, measuring it’s weight and texture, figuring out how to angle my wrist best, in order to create stereophonic ripples, their echoes heard above the lake, pitching to the vast sky, and finally sinking into the streamlined wings of a bird.