When I slam into the cliff face with the full weight of my body behind me, splaying out and splattering like an unlucky mosquito, I start to think that this may have been a bad idea. My legs are shaking uncontrollably, a fact which I am desperately hoping is not visible from the ground, although I definitely have more pressing things to worry about.
Like not dying. Continue reading “Rock On, Sister”
Postcards from Somewhere 