Of Wildflowers and Apricots

“The more we are governed by idiots and have no control over our destinies, the more we need to tell stories to each other about who we are, why we are, where we come from, and what might be possible,” said Alan Rickman once.

Now, when the world seems to be descending into chaos carefully orchestrated by these idiots, now is as good a time for a tale as any, so let me whisk you away for a moment from this too-real world and tell you a story.

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The Mountains

The Mountains

The sun had just risen. There was barely enough light to make out the path through the woods. As I stepped out of the trees and made my way towards the cliff, I could see the valley spread out below me. A light mist lingered in the valley, like a blanket the night had forgotten to pull back when she left. The mountains rose out of the mist towards the sky; giant guards keeping a watch over the sleeping valley. The half-light and the mist made the mountains look ethereal; as if they were the only beings from earth who were privy to the goings-on in the heavens.

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