Do you ever get that feeling like you’ve slipped into limbo? When you’re washing the dishes and the pile refuses to get any smaller, or when you’re writing an essay and the word count just doesn’t seem to budge?
Today is a bit like that. We’re walking through the early morning mists of Biogradska Gora, with visibility limited to just a few dozen metres on any direction, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve ever done anything else. Is this little patch of tussocky grass all there is? Will we ever leave this ridge?