A mean wind is sweeping the mountain, it whistles through the window of my tiny room shaking the glass and making the building sway.
I cannot sleep.
So I think to what’s happening and I can’t explain it… not the wind you know… it’s my life I’ve got problems with not the wind… not the mountain… not the perfect little woods I’ve surfed through today… not the mountain goats we’ve seen looking for food on the top of a peak this morning… everything right now is perfect even the tiny tiny room and the mean mean wind that makes me feel as if I am in a tent, camping.
Everything right now is perfect yet everything right now is not real.
This is a space and time gap where things re-align themselves for some weird coincidence to be infinitely better than they really are…
I will have to leave all this behind in a few hours to return to a place where I will need explanations… where I will be asked to explain… where some questions will remain unasked and some unanswered. That place scares me, because there I am a weaker person. I need people that don’t need me. I want people that don’t want me. I can’t find peace.
I am full of peace when I get lost in the woods up here. I can seat there silent for minutes in the freezing cold, in awe. Amazed at how things are when nobody sees them. Amazed that I’m the first to see them. Bumping through them as if they were mine. No photographs. Just a memory. Just for me. Just a few seconds of silence and perfection I will hold forever.
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