Sometimes I feel that there are places in this world that blurs the line that divides reality from the imagination.
It was 7am and the sun was shining through the trees. All I could hear were birds, dogs and roosters that roused everyone from their sleep.
I stepped out and walked around barefoot. It felt good to be back in the mountains, away from all the smog and city grime. The grass felt damp and the air was chilly at 18C. It was a perfect day to be out.
I walked around my friend’s garden. Her house was tucked behind a wall of pine trees. I smelled something different in the wind – in the smoke that drifted between the shadows that lined the grass. The scent of burning pine leaves smelled like incense that hung in the air like a quiet prayer.
A rusty slide stood in the grounds. You could almost see how much it was loved by the children that played around it in areas where the paint rubbed off.
When the fog rolled in at 11am, I was mesmerized. The cheery garden with its towering pine trees looked like a scene from a dream. I stood and waited for the familiar chill to envelope me. If this was a dream, I wanted to stay. I didn’t want to wake up. I was surrounded with so much peace and beauty that my thoughts were overwhelmed into silence.
It was as if the world shifted and I was living in a movie inside my head. Everything changed in a matter of hours and I stood there with my camera. Wanting to make the moment last forever.
