I recall a time in my teenage years when I was walking in the mountains, the eastern edge of which roll down into the east coast of Ireland to a place called Newcastle, in County Down. I wasn’t walking to get somewhere, I was just walking for the sake of walking through the mountains for four days, because I enjoyed being alone. There were many very magical places, and they all had strange and beautiful names, the cliffs and mountains and rocks. It was a very beautiful place. After four days of just walking in the hills, I felt very clear headed, very cleansed, and when I returned to the so-called “civilized” world it didn’t seem so civilized any more, but very dark and dirty instead.