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This dormant volcano I walk up, small grey stones instead of volcanic ash under my feet. This is an old grey mountain on a cold day with a few burbling brooks running down to the plain into the valley and emptying into the sea. There is green grass at the bottom and less and less as you get to the top. The only thing generating heat is just the rhythm and momentum of my feet but I remember the volcanoes to the south, the east and the north of here that spat out ash, glowing, molten rock and the flowing red stream of lava that didn’t kill me but its only while I’ve been smarting at the memory of erupting volcanoes that I see I can only cope with a dormant volcano.