Bart Och - Travel Journalist
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It happened suddenly. A looming realisation that the designs I have imagined for my life rest on blurred lines and intoxicated dreams. Disappointment. Heartbreak. On a cold, wet grass, surrounded by hills wrinkled with the cruel Icelandic weather, I put my backpack on.

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The road snakes its way over large glaciers and mottled peaks reminiscent of a marble cake. I walk for many hours, and, many times, I resist the temptation to stop in case I lose my pace and motivation to continue hiking. Through the eyes of my imagination, everything looked so simple – probably why it is easier for most of us to dream than to fulfil our dreams, to complain than to look for solutions, to stay than to leave.

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Acquainting a new chicken with the general flock is quite tricky. While some chickens will be tolerant of the newcomer, others will give the bird a hard time wary of the ‘intruder’. Instead, giving them a little time to familiarise themselves with their new living arrangements, your chickens should be settled and quietly roosting after sunset before you introduce any new members.

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Maybe I was naive to think that it is as easily done as it is said. Or maybe I was grasping at straws seeking some kind of revolution in a life that was beginning to feel static. I ached for something to make me feel alive, and I was desperate to find something to live for.

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