you round the corner and you realize its a dead end
its all in a dark cast shadow
but the greens, browns and dulled creamy whites are still evident
a cool chill is in the air and it smells of moss, lichen and stone masonry
the uneven cobblestone beneath your feet is annoying to walk on
the tufastone to your left is deteriorating, or is it not?
the beige, intermittent olive green and daunting brown envelope the small intimate space, a realization of its age and longevity is found
one of the olive greens catches your eye, pulling it to the ground, it has made a surprisingly exact line weaving through the cobblestone mortar, leading you on a journey from the tufa to the drainage slope
the vegetation left behind from a stream's repetitive path
does it rain here often?
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