At around 5:30pm when the sun starts to set, the mountains look the most imposing. The fading light sits behind them and they appear harsh against the sky.
I don’t know what it is about them but they scare me. I’m currently trying to find the words that articulate this feeling through a short story I’m writing that I want to call A River in Winter but Laura thinks that sounds too much like a gay porno. The story is taking a while to properly form but it stems from the feeling of being trapped in a valley with two looming mountain ranges on either side. When I first moved here, the fog was unrelenting. And then came the winds and I stopped being able to sleep properly. My sleep deprived self still blames this on the mountains – like they have some kind of control over me. And it feels really menacing.