***

Morning.

               The pink sky.

The dark silhouettes of tall trees trembling at the horizon.

The soft gentle wind kissing your cheek.

               The cold ground under your bare feet is still wet. As the lazy rays of sunshine touch the big drops of rain water on the leaves of a nearby tree, they reflect and shine into your eyes.  

               The sleepy sun is slowly coming out of the soft pillow-like clouds.

The early birds are singing.

 

The old, dirty fence with a broken gate.

The grass. So long it tickles your knees.

The pile of dead brown leaves under the tree’s white trunk.

The smell of fire.

 

You follow the path and open the squeaking gate. As you carry on you find yourself on a wide deserted road. The earth is soft and moist. The rocks on the ground tear up your skin, but you feel no pain. Instead, you carry on walking.

The road is endless.

The grass along it is still. The trees in the distance are motionless. The birds are silent. From far away you can hear a sound. It’s a horse.

You shiver and hold on to your robe that is made out of hard fabric. Suddenly, the wind becomes stronger. It becomes so strong, you think it’s going to lift you up, so you stop walking. Your long hair hits your face and neck. The dust is blowing into your eyes. For a moment you think you’re blind.

You close your eyes and crouch down.

As you open them everything is gone.