As the breeze took away the hair clippings, I contemplated life and the beginnings of spring. Still a little way to go, still the occasional snow blowing through from time to time. But warmer weather is on the way. It was almost cathartic to shed hairs and layers of clothes.
At the end of the trail I found bits of porcelain where someone had smashed a plate. They'd written a long note on the back of it, but something in the author's life had not gone to plan, and so here we were, a pile of glass bits scattered all about. I can only hope it made it better to destroy it.
Someone had picked out a shard and stuck it in a bank of dirt, for all to read, a signpost for all and sundry who pass that way. It could have been coincidence that that particular shard was still legible, but I don't think so.
Aye,
Kraneia
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