out of town at last

kulasa got pissed because of a spoon (imagine that). i was standing in the backyard watching at the view around me. there was a bamboo tree on my right and a pine tree on the left. there was a fence before me and there's an open pit below that. the sky, well, it was clear of clouds. i feel the heat of the sun on my skin but the chill of the wind repels it. i feel good. the mountains here are green. everything is green.

before going here. i saw that most mountains no longer have trees in them. they are no longer green, no longer happy. so i do not want to talk about that. and yet i will talk about that. because suddenly my serenely positioned stance was disturbed by the cacophonies that came. they ruined my melody. they broke every piece of beauty in my perfect picture.

i thought. it was indeed so hard to sink in my solemnity if i am surrounded by people who do not have inspiration. i am not in a pedestal because i notice the very thick wall that separates me from this people. and neither me nor these people would want to break it.

and i will soon leave this place and i doubt if i ever step here again. but i will walk with this people still. i wish it is the other way around.