From the age of eight, I attended a little boarding school on the Derbyshire-Staffordshire border. On Sunday afternoons, the 1 would leave us to wander the edge of the grounds where we were supposed to 2 time chatting or playing sports but my 3 was to climb over the fences and disappear into the landscape. Often, much to the teachers' annoyance, no one knew where to 4 me.
That was the point. To walk to a(n) 5 place and, for a moment, feel the world as something new brought with it a feeling I would desire. The habit 6 with me. By my mid-20s, I was a 7 walker. Walking became a way of life that, 8 , gave shape to a wandering decade and I would ease myself into new 9 the world over by setting out on foot to get 10 and then find myself again in the backstreets of Ahmedabad or Isfhanan, Ramallah or Bari.
Now I have established my home in the landscape of Devon. Here, walking 11 me and my dog Dharma as an essential daily practice. The world outside our front door is an 12 the tiring, routine aspects of our lives. It's a place where we watch the seasons change and 13 the movement of the sun and the light around the moon. We walk the same 14 , day after day, but every minute of every hour can feel like 15 .
