You Yang and its rocks.

Organised and helmets on. I miss my dearest climber, but this is not too bad after all. 
I find interesting people everywhere though. Is it never enough. 
Maybe whenever I search for refuge in the mountains. 

My first few ourdoor climbs in Australia, another set of personalities. 
I like. There are so many similarities. I'm holding on to my solid rock with broken fingers, 
and I will never let go. This sport will always feel the same. Free, broken, winging. 

The kangaroo's are surrounding us and the bugs are still sleeping. 
It's chilly and I've already worn in my hiking boots. Whilst sleeping. In my boots. Like normal people do.

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