The ravens with giant wing spans, the scent of pink honeysuckle (or what looks like honeysuckle), the line of ants curving up the pathway, the moss-speckled stones, a leaf with the word ‘sufi’ scratched into it. Sometimes signs are not glaringly obvious, but incredibly simple.
The higher the altitude, the more precious the air is.
The closer to the clouds I am, the more grounded I feel.
There are some places I’ve never been before that are more familiar to me than home.
Kerio Valley is one of them.