Sitting in the back seat of my Dad's car. We're zooming past the green hazy trees, past the white broken line in the center of the road which no longer looks broken. Sister's asleep on the other seat and my Mum is trying to stay awake. My Dad has no problem staying awake. And I don't like sleeping in the car because of all the scenes I'd miss out on. The green farmland, the brown rocky hills, the odd river that seemingly starts from nowhere. My favourite, however, are the hill-like rock formations that one can see when travelling on road outside Bangalore. Rocks kept upon rocks, finally topped with either a huge rock or a tiny rock. One touch from the side and the leader would fall. The clouds hovered over the tallest rock-hill, as though waiting for something to happen...
... I saw myself standing on top of the highest rock, reaching out to the white, fluffy clouds above me, to grab a fistful of clouds.
(The wind in my hair)
... I saw myself standing on top of the highest rock, reaching out to the white, fluffy clouds above me, to grab a fistful of clouds.
No comments:
Post a Comment