Reaching the peak is tangible. From beating heart to strained lungs, from the unfiltered sunlight to an exposed breeze, making it to the top is immutable. How often, when we hear the dusk warblers, do we hold onto so much more than “this is what I say”? Climbers sometimes leave monuments at the peak; though they’re just balanced rocks, waiting for a storm to pick up, they give testament. They declare: I too am tangible.