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athena fung

heath diaries 1.0

Hampstead Heath is a wild park which spans close to 800 acres. It has become a sanctuary for me over the last few months. Moving here in the dead of winter has allowed me to watch the heath come to life. I watched as it slowly woke from its deep slumber, along with the rest of us.

I went for a walk. No headphones. No music or podcasts. No noise. Silence. A silence that resonated. I unmuted the world and the life around me started pouring in.

So here is a stream of communal sights and sounds which I opened myself up to.

I think my favourite scent might be that of a forest after it rains. Petrichor. The earth smell after it rains.

Three people sitting side by side on a bench, each reading a book. A fourth, lying on the grass with a book covering their face.

A sleeping figure in a field of crows.

Baby frogs. The tiniest froglets jumping along the footpath.

Light chatter of people walking past.

More lily pads than visible water surface.

A hawk soaring above.

Footsteps on gravel. A distinct sound with every step taken.

A great tit and its striking yellow plumage against the forest greens.

Familiar cooing of the wood pigeons and countless other bird songs and sounds.

Heavy breathing of seasoned runners sprinting past.

Rustling whispers of trees, one of my favourite sounds. Psithurism, according to the internet.

Ducks, coots, and swans. A heron in the distance?

Joyful laughter from the bathing pond.

Farewell heath, see you tomorrow.