We walked in the winter. Only the very top of the mountains had a snow cover. It was cold in the shadows but pleasant in the sun. We walked.

He walked behind me, my love, describing some of his trekking trips to me. The ones as a child in a baby carrier, the first he walked himself, the ones as a teenager. We walked. He walked behind me under the trees, next to the bushes. He climbed behind me up the rocks to the top.

He smiled. I smiled. We admired the mountains together from whereto we had walked.