The Lonely Mountain

The Lonely Mountain: In the quiet shroud of dawn, I climbed through darkness and mist, hoping this time would be different. As I reached North Barrule, the final hill of the northern ridge, a haunting red mist rolled in from the sea, wrapping the silhouetted peak in otherworldly light. The sun’s first, fragile rays broke through, illuminating the mist with an almost spectral glow. It was a rare, brooding morning, each attempt and early rise now vindicated in the mysterious beauty of this elusive moment. Limited to two prints ever, Certificate of Authenticity included.