The rock was warm under my calloused hands as I pulled myself onto the orangish wall, nearly red in the glow of the setting sun. After weeks of rock climbing throughout Oregon, my soft, smooth hands had grown hard and rough and constantly seemed black with rope aluminum from belaying. As I pulled up in search of a second hold, my conscious subsided, and suddenly, my body was overriding my mind in a wave of instinct and memory. My fingers claimed seemingly nonexistent cracks in the harsh textured landscape beneath my chalked fingers. The tips of my rock shoes smeared into the mear idea of a depression. My entire body pulsed to life in an unwavering pursuit to defy gravity. My breaths deepened, my heart beats drummed louder inside the hollow of my chest; Blood rushed just below my skin flooding my shaking muscles. The world had narrowed into an undefinable point between me and the rock, and in an instant, the sinking sun seemed universes away.
blog post by Isabelle.
Edited and posted by Lily.