Where the paths meet again You are in the mountains, alone. A narrow path winds before you, and you walk along it. It is daytime, the air tender with a gentle dampness, the world touched with a mild chill. Tall trees rise all around, their shadows long and silent, and between their branches echo the songs of birds. Every sound seems woven into that melody, and the world hums quietly beneath its spell. In the faint breeze drifts a scent—earthy, familiar, the kind that reminds you of somewhere, someone, a moment you’ve lived before. It stirs an unspoken longing, wakes a forgotten desire, and fills your heart with an uncertain ache, as though something beautiful is on the verge of happening. The road isn’t clearly visible, and the world ahead shimmers in fog. Mist curls around everything, tender yet impenetrable. Still, you keep walking. Somewhere behind you, a voice calls out—a familiar one. It breaks through the birdsong, pulling your thoughts backward. You turn....
I'm back in my bed. Twisting and turning, trying to find a perfect fit for myself to fall asleep. I put my hand under my head while lying flat on my back. I've become a bit resilient to close my eyes as I start seeing things that I would never get to see with my eyes open although I want to so desperately. So, instead of closing my eyes I stare into nothingness. I stare at my roof and in a moment start to go high and beyond that. It has been quite a long time since I have been losing control. The nights have something to do with that as I have always hated my days particularly before today. It had been a rather energetic day despite of the fact that it had been days since I had slept peacefully. What makes it even more intriguing is the fact that none of it felt like I had to put in any kind of efforts. It just happened, came and went past like life usually does, in a flash. I cannot fathom how many times we walk past all the possibilities that were once our deepes...