Out of Place

Early morning runs, I rarely see the sunrise as it is so early now. At 6am the world of cats is still active. An hour later and they disappear, replaced by the regular dog walkers I nod to daily, without knowing them.

The air around me seems so blue, I feel like I am breathing in the distant colour of the haze. An embarrassingly bright running jacket is now tied around my waist, as I heat up, as the fields and paths heat up. With increasingly damp feet, I run through fields of wet grass, alongside the footprints of someone who has got their earlier than me. This time of day feels like it is mine, a secret place. I feel more at ease in the quiet before the noise of my immediate world begins and the sensory overload kicks in that we all have to absorb daily. If I am lucky, and early enough, I glimpse the big red fox at Bone Valley.

‘Out of Place’ refers to how I feel about my roots, where I live, where I come from, how at home I feel in the place(s) I live in. I often have one foot here, one foot, there, straddle two or more places, and am unsure where I am. Walking is the way I feel at home in a place and develop a sense of belonging.

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