flâneur

Friction Feels Good - by Jesse Crossen - Hinterlander

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The other night I found myself out in the dark and the rain, on the banks of a river in the English countryside, trying to improvise a tiny tent before the bulk of the storm rolled in from the west.

The other night I found myself out in the dark and the rain, on the banks of a river in the English countryside, trying to improvise a tiny tent before the bulk of the storm rolled in from the west. I was stripped to my undies to keep my clothes from getting wet, my hands shaking as I tied the top of my cloak to an overhanging alder branch and plunged stakes deep into the carpet of stinging nettles that surrounded me. My knuckles were tingling and the scent of some crushed herb floated up from the ground. For just a moment I wondered why I was out here doing this, and then I remembered: I…

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