The ladder is moist and it looks like the wood might break any second. Well covered in moss and mushrooms it speaks of many seasons. Slinging over the shoulder is the trusted tool, looking innocent until faced somewhere but the sky.

Each step an adventure, each noise a possible point of interest. Scents and silence only to be broken by the call of the wild, the wind and the rhythm of the breath.

The top, covered by a small roof, ready to serve, once again. The seat is still cold from last nights abandonment of post. The feeling is a mixture of excitement, tension and relaxation. Whether something happens or not, is up to the infinite and mind-bending complexity of the universe. Therefore, too much to spend even a single thought on.

It is a sitting game, it is one of advanced positioning, silence, solitude, and waiting. Impatience is its greatest enemy and calmness the highest virtue.

There is a reason why all of this, is, a sitting game. But now, please…