I hold and turn my helmet like a classroom globe, dragging my fingers over each mark, each sign of wear. Every indent, every groove represents a route, a pitch, a move, a memory. Note: this piece is published in the new Zine, Volume 17, now available to order. In my hands is my beaten-up shield.…
https://climbingzine.com/my-helmet-by-david-rozul/
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