On the second day of my holiday I decided on another evening walk down the trail that led away from the beach. The day had been very fun, and very busy and I was mentally exhausted, in dire need of a break, and once again a lonely walk brought me right back into myself. The trail started very easy and obvious, though I saw many overgrown and reclaimed branching paths that fireshadowed what this trail was soon to turn into. I thought I could avoid such inconvenience by sticking to this one path, but it eventually forked into two quite difficult paths. Difficult, that is, for someone still dressed in beachwear; in reality it wasn’t that difficult at all, I just needed to keep an eye for brambles and stinging nettles near my legs. I got a little turned around on the trip, which was impressive considering the trail is just one big loop, and ended up reentering the caravan park from a very different spot than the one I’d left. I had to use my map to get back to my side of the park. Even so, it was a good walk. I described it as lonely before, but lonliness is not always a bad thing. Sometimes melancholy hits at a time that allows it to be received with grace, amd this was one such time. The open country in all directions and the surrounding hills, dwarfing me, promising there was more I could not see and could not then go to. As I walked, I hummed The Road Most Travelled, a particularly adventurous puece of music from The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, as I began to realise I’d taken a wrong turn at the fork in the trail.