Finally, we reached the summit. And there it was. An impressive sea of clouds that can provoke one’s insane poetic self to jump right through it. Heart first. Careless of the abyss. It was truly that beautiful.
Imagine waking up on top of a mountain with the sea breeze kissing your face. Reminding you of last night’s starry encounter. Summon all your senses, please.
But if that beautiful monster can’t be tamed, it sometimes tends to overwork itself like a sweatshop from a pseudo-socialist country.
“Despite its bleak past, the trail was an amusing playground for me. Hopping gleefully in my trusted pair of slippers rather than walking like a civilized bipedal.”
“And feigning interest over vapid sceneries never seduced me. Because I think travel is far too raw and honest of an experience, that faking pleasure will always be out of the equation.”
“It was an easy triumph. One that needed no justification of whether the odds were stacked against us or if the game of catching fish was rigged.”