The Walk

After a 5 minutes walk he was on the highway. He looked at the distant hill and assumed it will take him at least 2 hours to reach there if he decide not to walk very slow. The highway was taking a curve since it was mountains. He kept on walking. He was feeling the cold wind against his face. Although he has tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat but still the chilling wind was cutting his skin in the face.

He decided that after a few minutes of walk and with the impact of the rum he has just had he will be good. The blood will be circulating again. After a walk of half an hour he reached the point where the highway was taking the turn. He saw a very clear picture of the valley from this point. He decided to stay put for a few minutes and just stare into the beauty of this valley.

He always loved mountains. They always reminded him of strength, establishment, adherence and determination. He always went back to the mountains when he wanted to gain back his own stability. And there he was. The valley was stretched under the ridge he was standing at. He was just blankly staring into it. The cold wind was once again cutting the flesh. He took out his hands from the coat. Gradually they started cold again. The man didn't move. He wanted to absorb this cold within himself. He was feeling content. Close to nature. Close to his own self. There were no voices. There was no roaring of vehicles like his own city. His sense of belonging to the place was at its peak.

After a few minutes of standing like this, he started to walk again once again to normalize the flow of blood in his veins. He had to reach to the hill now. Now he decided not to stop anywhere and take up the walk to the hill in single stretch.