Awoken in my snuggery by an impertinent student who felt compelled to inform me on the telephone that their passport had unfortunately been misplaced, I envisioned a day of horror, speeding about St Malo in a hire car in desperate attempt to locate the vital documents. The Dr had already taken the tiny lift to the dining room and we both turned from the charcuterie board in dismay. Then reprieve! Another call from the same student to say that the passport had been found stuffed in a sock or some other typical repository a teenager randomly identifies as “safe”.
Invigorated by our morning’s dilemma, out we walked out on a crisp, bright morning in spring along the massive wall that leads out into the ocean. Hardly a soul and the clouds dappling a sky of cornflower blue. All untroubled the waters as we strolled past a lone figure quietly contemplating the sea. Turning back, there before us lay Mt Malo, perfect in the gentle sunlight, caressed by the misted air.
What cared we for the petty troubles of the world with such wonder before us? My trusty Fuji recorded the moment and we strolled back to our bastion of joy, fully prepared for anything the world could throw at us.
Then the phone rang…again.
Weekly photo challenge – Depth