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The footpath is as a well composed song, one that rises and slows, that welcomes both the shade and the bright sun in its ever morphing tempo.

Upon each side of the footpath were cheering crowds of spring flowers.

Into the eventide, the footpath wove itself upon the rising hill, rising in salute to the heavens that called.

The footpath meandered ahead as if Alice had dreamed it from wonderland.

The footpath was rutted, the soft spring mud had dried in the first heat of the new season leaving casts of every shoe. Amy picked her way over with care, mindful of what a twisted ankle would mean to the rest of her journey.

The footpath, though winding, remained the exact same width. The grey pea shingle was pale in the morning light and the recent rain gave a gloss to the wooden edges.