One Last Push
My legs tighten. One last push. Over another bump in the gravel and the climb finally gives way, opening out into a plateau. A stretch of green rice fields ahead, the sun catching on the flooded plains. Zebra doves make their mechanical whirring sound overhead as a worker in a conical hat walks past.
Strong Women - Sukarara weaving village
After enough time on the road, travel stops being about places and starts becoming about perception. Not what you see, but how it quietly rewires what you thought you knew.