wanderlust

"When you are walking, there is only one sort of performance that counts: the brilliance of the sky, the splendor of the landscape …The appeal of transgression, the call of the great outdoors: throwing off moronic conventions, the soporific security of four walls, the boredom of the same, the wear of repetition, the chilliness of the well-heeled and their hatred of change. The need to provoke departures, transgressions, to give substance at last to folly and dreams."

A Philosophy of Walking
by Frederic Gros

There are times when all I want to is live in a little cottage in a remote place high up in the mountains. I would spend my days wandering over hills and moors, along crags and past lochs. Allowing silence to pervade my cells, allowing nature to reclaim me in some unfathomable solitary way. But there has to be height, and lots of sky. And preferably a loch or a magical sea to rest the eyes on and maybe even dip the toes into.
I do not fear solitude. I long for it.

The ecstatically picturesque Lofoten islands in Norway would do quite nicely: