For the first time in a long time, I saw mountains. Rising above me, up and up every step I take, almost towering over me. I know they don’t grow so quickly, but it is almost empowering see, every time I look up to the sky they seem meters higher and higher the previous time. I wish I came here under better circumstances, maybe that way I’d enjoy the climate of the city, colloquially known as the city of “eternal spring”. I think that name fits really well, its almost as if everyday during the year was Miami during what we call “Winter. In here, as it hovers so close to the equator, you’d expect it to be blisteringly warm, but since it’s located smack in the outreaches of the Andean mountain ranges. It is uncharacteristically crowded with weirdest endemic plants, or perhaps they were introduced later on. It is truly a wonder how palm trees manage to grow kilometers above sea level. This area is known to be famous for its ability to grow coffee so productively. You can see the plains that reside below from the mountains, in a way resembling Machu Picchu. This place is surrounded by skyscrapers that have no hope in surpassing the mountains. I saw a lot of succulents, mostly cacti (of the highly prickly variety), amongst the pines, palms and roble trees. At the hospital, I met a woman of fifty, maybe even sixty years of age, sobbing by the balcony of the ICU, which just so happened to be at the very peak of the seven-story building. I was there, waiting for someone to tell me how my uncle was doing, if he’d make it or not. I looked at the mountains, in awe because I don’t think you can easily get used to them after not seeing them for so many years. It seems most of the city has an unforgettable view because of this. I can’t stand to see people so sad, in all honesty, and I don’t say this to undermine her pain, I just can’t help to empathize, so I told her to get her mind out of the trance of losing someone, “Hey ma’am, you know, this is the first time in my life I’ve truly seen mountains.” She scoffed for a second and smiled at me in a confused trance, obviously she could see my accent was different to that of her own, so she asked in a head tilting fashion, “Is that so?” See the thing is, even in Barranquilla, the place I lived for a good chunk of my life, is sort of packed with small hills, making the city’s infrastructure extremely complex as its basically a maze of a small yet steep hills, that much you can actually get from the etymology of Barranquilla, even so, I considered this mountainous at an altitude of eighteen meters above sea-level, that’s about two more than Miami. Medellin is around a thousand and a half meters above sea level. Maybe that’s why I felt so lightheaded and relaxed up there, I could feel my blood flow. I told the lady that in a way, it served as a metaphorical allegory for loss, sort of, the mountains are literal figures of permanence and continuity, they almost contradict that it is to be alive, which is an extremely ephemeral experience. So, if she thought of mountains as her loved one, then they too would be as permanent as the mountains. She told me the mountains didn’t mean much to her as much as they did to me since she grew up around them, but I think that’s where our thoughts clash. Right now, I sort of don’t give a damn about my family members who are alive, they don’t occupy my every thought and fill me with anxiety as does the death of a loved one, and if those mountains where to suddenly disappear, she too would feel that loss and anxiety because looking out at night of your window to see the mountains that light up like a Christmas tree, and lightly contemplating their beauty without realizing it, is an experience that is so integral and if you add those who you’ve lost to it, they never really leave. It is like fabricating your own philosophy of life, a mythology even, to never lose your loved ones. I think, and this is more of a personal stance, that the soul of a person exists and persists and while I don’t know here it may go, I do think that even after death the good deeds and thoughts you have towards someone persist. Maybe even if the soul doesn’t stay behind or even exist, for a personal level, holding on to something is a lot more valuable than letting it go and forget about it. After a while she stopped sobbing and we parted ways. Maybe the mountains are my loved one too. Somehow.
I don’t think my metaphor makes much sense at all, really. But maybe I just want to think of my uncle as big unmoving sort of figure, a tall mountain that embraces me as the sun sets. He always has had a big, kind and soft presence. For me at least, I do hope that he is there for me even after death. I know he and I weren’t even that close, he was always sort of ill. I don’t think I’m a person who has a way with words.For the first time in a long time, I saw mountains. Rising above me, up and up every step I take, almost towering over me. I know they don’t grow so quickly, but it is almost empowering see, every time I look up to the sky they seem meters higher and higher the previous time. I wish I came here under better circumstances, maybe that way I’d enjoy the climate of the city, colloquially known as the city of “eternal spring”. I think that name fits really well, its almost as if everyday during the year was Miami during what we call “Winter. In here, as it hovers so close to the equator, you’d expect it to be blisteringly warm, but since it’s located smack in the outreaches of the Andean mountain ranges. It is uncharacteristically crowded with weirdest endemic plants, or perhaps they were introduced later on. It is truly a wonder how palm trees manage to grow kilometers above sea level. This area is known to be famous for its ability to grow coffee so productively. You can see the plains that reside below from the mountains, in a way resembling Machu Picchu. This place is surrounded by skyscrapers that have no hope in surpassing the mountains. I saw a lot of succulents, mostly cacti (of the highly prickly variety), amongst the pines, palms and roble trees. At the hospital, I met a woman of fifty, maybe even sixty years of age, sobbing by the balcony of the ICU, which just so happened to be at the very peak of the seven-story building. I was there, waiting for someone to tell me how my uncle was doing, if he’d make it or not. I looked at the mountains, in awe because I don’t think you can easily get used to them after not seeing them for so many years. It seems most of the city has an unforgettable view because of this. I can’t stand to see people so sad, in all honesty, and I don’t say this to undermine her pain, I just can’t help to empathize, so I told her to get her mind out of the trance of losing someone, “Hey ma’am, you know, this is the first time in my life I’ve truly seen mountains.” She scoffed for a second and smiled at me in a confused trance, obviously she could see my accent was different to that of her own, so she asked in a head tilting fashion, “Is that so?” See the thing is, even in Barranquilla, the place I lived for a good chunk of my life, is sort of packed with small hills, making the city’s infrastructure extremely complex as its basically a maze of a small yet steep hills, that much you can actually get from the etymology of Barranquilla, even so, I considered this mountainous at an altitude of eighteen meters above sea-level, that’s about two more than Miami. Medellin is around a thousand and a half meters above sea level. Maybe that’s why I felt so lightheaded and relaxed up there, I could feel my blood flow. I told the lady that in a way, it served as a metaphorical allegory for loss, sort of, the mountains are literal figures of permanence and continuity, they almost contradict that it is to be alive, which is an extremely ephemeral experience. So, if she thought of mountains as her loved one, then they too would be as permanent as the mountains. She told me the mountains didn’t mean much to her as much as they did to me since she grew up around them, but I think that’s where our thoughts clash. Right now, I sort of don’t give a damn about my family members who are alive, they don’t occupy my every thought and fill me with anxiety as does the death of a loved one, and if those mountains where to suddenly disappear, she too would feel that loss and anxiety because looking out at night of your window to see the mountains that light up like a Christmas tree, and lightly contemplating their beauty without realizing it, is an experience that is so integral and if you add those who you’ve lost to it, they never really leave. It is like fabricating your own philosophy of life, a mythology even, to never lose your loved ones. I think, and this is more of a personal stance, that the soul of a person exists and persists and while I don’t know here it may go, I do think that even after death the good deeds and thoughts you have towards someone persist. Maybe even if the soul doesn’t stay behind or even exist, for a personal level, holding on to something is a lot more valuable than letting it go and forget about it. After a while she stopped sobbing and we parted ways. Maybe the mountains are my loved one too. Somehow.
I don’t think my metaphor makes much sense at all, really. But maybe I just want to think of my uncle as big unmoving sort of figure, a tall mountain that embraces me as the sun sets. He always has had a big, kind and soft presence. For me at least, I do hope that he is there for me even after death. I know he and I weren’t even that close, he was always sort of ill. I don’t think I’m a person who has a way with words.For the first time in a long time, I saw mountains. Rising above me, up and up every step I take, almost towering over me. I know they don’t grow so quickly, but it is almost empowering see, every time I look up to the sky they seem meters higher and higher the previous time. I wish I came here under better circumstances, maybe that way I’d enjoy the climate of the city, colloquially known as the city of “eternal spring”. I think that name fits really well, its almost as if everyday during the year was Miami during what we call “Winter. In here, as it hovers so close to the equator, you’d expect it to be blisteringly warm, but since it’s located smack in the outreaches of the Andean mountain ranges. It is uncharacteristically crowded with weirdest endemic plants, or perhaps they were introduced later on. It is truly a wonder how palm trees manage to grow kilometers above sea level. This area is known to be famous for its ability to grow coffee so productively. You can see the plains that reside below from the mountains, in a way resembling Machu Picchu. This place is surrounded by skyscrapers that have no hope in surpassing the mountains. I saw a lot of succulents, mostly cacti (of the highly prickly variety), amongst the pines, palms and roble trees. At the hospital, I met a woman of fifty, maybe even sixty years of age, sobbing by the balcony of the ICU, which just so happened to be at the very peak of the seven-story building. I was there, waiting for someone to tell me how my uncle was doing, if he’d make it or not. I looked at the mountains, in awe because I don’t think you can easily get used to them after not seeing them for so many years. It seems most of the city has an unforgettable view because of this. I can’t stand to see people so sad, in all honesty, and I don’t say this to undermine her pain, I just can’t help to empathize, so I told her to get her mind out of the trance of losing someone, “Hey ma’am, you know, this is the first time in my life I’ve truly seen mountains.” She scoffed for a second and smiled at me in a confused trance, obviously she could see my accent was different to that of her own, so she asked in a head tilting fashion, “Is that so?” See the thing is, even in Barranquilla, the place I lived for a good chunk of my life, is sort of packed with small hills, making the city’s infrastructure extremely complex as its basically a maze of a small yet steep hills, that much you can actually get from the etymology of Barranquilla, even so, I considered this mountainous at an altitude of eighteen meters above sea-level, that’s about two more than Miami. Medellin is around a thousand and a half meters above sea level. Maybe that’s why I felt so lightheaded and relaxed up there, I could feel my blood flow. I told the lady that in a way, it served as a metaphorical allegory for loss, sort of, the mountains are literal figures of permanence and continuity, they almost contradict that it is to be alive, which is an extremely ephemeral experience. So, if she thought of mountains as her loved one, then they too would be as permanent as the mountains. She told me the mountains didn’t mean much to her as much as they did to me since she grew up around them, but I think that’s where our thoughts clash. Right now, I sort of don’t give a damn about my family members who are alive, they don’t occupy my every thought and fill me with anxiety as does the death of a loved one, and if those mountains where to suddenly disappear, she too would feel that loss and anxiety because looking out at night of your window to see the mountains that light up like a Christmas tree, and lightly contemplating their beauty without realizing it, is an experience that is so integral and if you add those who you’ve lost to it, they never really leave. It is like fabricating your own philosophy of life, a mythology even, to never lose your loved ones. I think, and this is more of a personal stance, that the soul of a person exists and persists and while I don’t know here it may go, I do think that even after death the good deeds and thoughts you have towards someone persist. Maybe even if the soul doesn’t stay behind or even exist, for a personal level, holding on to something is a lot more valuable than letting it go and forget about it. After a while she stopped sobbing and we parted ways. Maybe the mountains are my loved one too. Somehow.
I don’t think my metaphor makes much sense at all, really. But maybe I just want to think of my uncle as big unmoving sort of figure, a tall mountain that embraces me as the sun sets. He always has had a big, kind and soft presence. For me at least, I do hope that he is there for me even after death. I know he and I weren’t even that close, he was always sort of ill. I don’t think I’m a person who has a way with words.For the first time in a long time, I saw mountains. Rising above me, up and up every step I take, almost towering over me. I know they don’t grow so quickly, but it is almost empowering see, every time I look up to the sky they seem meters higher and higher the previous time. I wish I came here under better circumstances, maybe that way I’d enjoy the climate of the city, colloquially known as the city of “eternal spring”. I think that name fits really well, its almost as if everyday during the year was Miami during what we call “Winter. In here, as it hovers so close to the equator, you’d expect it to be blisteringly warm, but since it’s located smack in the outreaches of the Andean mountain ranges. It is uncharacteristically crowded with weirdest endemic plants, or perhaps they were introduced later on. It is truly a wonder how palm trees manage to grow kilometers above sea level. This area is known to be famous for its ability to grow coffee so productively. You can see the plains that reside below from the mountains, in a way resembling Machu Picchu. This place is surrounded by skyscrapers that have no hope in surpassing the mountains. I saw a lot of succulents, mostly cacti (of the highly prickly variety), amongst the pines, palms and roble trees. At the hospital, I met a woman of fifty, maybe even sixty years of age, sobbing by the balcony of the ICU, which just so happened to be at the very peak of the seven-story building. I was there, waiting for someone to tell me how my uncle was doing, if he’d make it or not. I looked at the mountains, in awe because I don’t think you can easily get used to them after not seeing them for so many years. It seems most of the city has an unforgettable view because of this. I can’t stand to see people so sad, in all honesty, and I don’t say this to undermine her pain, I just can’t help to empathize, so I told her to get her mind out of the trance of losing someone, “Hey ma’am, you know, this is the first time in my life I’ve truly seen mountains.” She scoffed for a second and smiled at me in a confused trance, obviously she could see my accent was different to that of her own, so she asked in a head tilting fashion, “Is that so?” See the thing is, even in Barranquilla, the place I lived for a good chunk of my life, is sort of packed with small hills, making the city’s infrastructure extremely complex as its basically a maze of a small yet steep hills, that much you can actually get from the etymology of Barranquilla, even so, I considered this mountainous at an altitude of eighteen meters above sea-level, that’s about two more than Miami. Medellin is around a thousand and a half meters above sea level. Maybe that’s why I felt so lightheaded and relaxed up there, I could feel my blood flow. I told the lady that in a way, it served as a metaphorical allegory for loss, sort of, the mountains are literal figures of permanence and continuity, they almost contradict that it is to be alive, which is an extremely ephemeral experience. So, if she thought of mountains as her loved one, then they too would be as permanent as the mountains. She told me the mountains didn’t mean much to her as much as they did to me since she grew up around them, but I think that’s where our thoughts clash. Right now, I sort of don’t give a damn about my family members who are alive, they don’t occupy my every thought and fill me with anxiety as does the death of a loved one, and if those mountains where to suddenly disappear, she too would feel that loss and anxiety because looking out at night of your window to see the mountains that light up like a Christmas tree, and lightly contemplating their beauty without realizing it, is an experience that is so integral and if you add those who you’ve lost to it, they never really leave. It is like fabricating your own philosophy of life, a mythology even, to never lose your loved ones. I think, and this is more of a personal stance, that the soul of a person exists and persists and while I don’t know here it may go, I do think that even after death the good deeds and thoughts you have towards someone persist. Maybe even if the soul doesn’t stay behind or even exist, for a personal level, holding on to something is a lot more valuable than letting it go and forget about it. After a while she stopped sobbing and we parted ways. Maybe the mountains are my loved one too. Somehow.
I don’t think my metaphor makes much sense at all, really. But maybe I just want to think of my uncle as big unmoving sort of figure, a tall mountain that embraces me as the sun sets. He always has had a big, kind and soft presence. For me at least, I do hope that he is there for me even after death. I know he and I weren’t even that close, he was always sort of ill. I don’t think I’m a person who has a way with words.For the first time in a long time, I saw mountains. Rising above me, up and up every step I take, almost towering over me. I know they don’t grow so quickly, but it is almost empowering see, every time I look up to the sky they seem meters higher and higher the previous time. I wish I came here under better circumstances, maybe that way I’d enjoy the climate of the city, colloquially known as the city of “eternal spring”. I think that name fits really well, its almost as if everyday during the year was Miami during what we call “Winter. In here, as it hovers so close to the equator, you’d expect it to be blisteringly warm, but since it’s located smack in the outreaches of the Andean mountain ranges. It is uncharacteristically crowded with weirdest endemic plants, or perhaps they were introduced later on. It is truly a wonder how palm trees manage to grow kilometers above sea level. This area is known to be famous for its ability to grow coffee so productively. You can see the plains that reside below from the mountains, in a way resembling Machu Picchu. This place is surrounded by skyscrapers that have no hope in surpassing the mountains. I saw a lot of succulents, mostly cacti (of the highly prickly variety), amongst the pines, palms and roble trees. At the hospital, I met a woman of fifty, maybe even sixty years of age, sobbing by the balcony of the ICU, which just so happened to be at the very peak of the seven-story building. I was there, waiting for someone to tell me how my uncle was doing, if he’d make it or not. I looked at the mountains, in awe because I don’t think you can easily get used to them after not seeing them for so many years. It seems most of the city has an unforgettable view because of this. I can’t stand to see people so sad, in all honesty, and I don’t say this to undermine her pain, I just can’t help to empathize, so I told her to get her mind out of the trance of losing someone, “Hey ma’am, you know, this is the first time in my life I’ve truly seen mountains.” She scoffed for a second and smiled at me in a confused trance, obviously she could see my accent was different to that of her own, so she asked in a head tilting fashion, “Is that so?” See the thing is, even in Barranquilla, the place I lived for a good chunk of my life, is sort of packed with small hills, making the city’s infrastructure extremely complex as its basically a maze of a small yet steep hills, that much you can actually get from the etymology of Barranquilla, even so, I considered this mountainous at an altitude of eighteen meters above sea-level, that’s about two more than Miami. Medellin is around a thousand and a half meters above sea level. Maybe that’s why I felt so lightheaded and relaxed up there, I could feel my blood flow. I told the lady that in a way, it served as a metaphorical allegory for loss, sort of, the mountains are literal figures of permanence and continuity, they almost contradict that it is to be alive, which is an extremely ephemeral experience. So, if she thought of mountains as her loved one, then they too would be as permanent as the mountains. She told me the mountains didn’t mean much to her as much as they did to me since she grew up around them, but I think that’s where our thoughts clash. Right now, I sort of don’t give a damn about my family members who are alive, they don’t occupy my every thought and fill me with anxiety as does the death of a loved one, and if those mountains where to suddenly disappear, she too would feel that loss and anxiety because looking out at night of your window to see the mountains that light up like a Christmas tree, and lightly contemplating their beauty without realizing it, is an experience that is so integral and if you add those who you’ve lost to it, they never really leave. It is like fabricating your own philosophy of life, a mythology even, to never lose your loved ones. I think, and this is more of a personal stance, that the soul of a person exists and persists and while I don’t know here it may go, I do think that even after death the good deeds and thoughts you have towards someone persist. Maybe even if the soul doesn’t stay behind or even exist, for a personal level, holding on to something is a lot more valuable than letting it go and forget about it. After a while she stopped sobbing and we parted ways. Maybe the mountains are my loved one too. Somehow.
I don’t think my metaphor makes much sense at all, really. But maybe I just want to think of my uncle as big unmoving sort of figure, a tall mountain that embraces me as the sun sets. He always has had a big, kind and soft presence. For me at least, I do hope that he is there for me even after death. I know he and I weren’t even that close, he was always sort of ill. I don’t think I’m a person who has a way with words.For the first time in a long time, I saw mountains. Rising above me, up and up every step I take, almost towering over me. I know they don’t grow so quickly, but it is almost empowering see, every time I look up to the sky they seem meters higher and higher the previous time. I wish I came here under better circumstances, maybe that way I’d enjoy the climate of the city, colloquially known as the city of “eternal spring”. I think that name fits really well, its almost as if everyday during the year was Miami during what we call “Winter. In here, as it hovers so close to the equator, you’d expect it to be blisteringly warm, but since it’s located smack in the outreaches of the Andean mountain ranges. It is uncharacteristically crowded with weirdest endemic plants, or perhaps they were introduced later on. It is truly a wonder how palm trees manage to grow kilometers above sea level. This area is known to be famous for its ability to grow coffee so productively. You can see the plains that reside below from the mountains, in a way resembling Machu Picchu. This place is surrounded by skyscrapers that have no hope in surpassing the mountains. I saw a lot of succulents, mostly cacti (of the highly prickly variety), amongst the pines, palms and roble trees. At the hospital, I met a woman of fifty, maybe even sixty years of age, sobbing by the balcony of the ICU, which just so happened to be at the very peak of the seven-story building. I was there, waiting for someone to tell me how my uncle was doing, if he’d make it or not. I looked at the mountains, in awe because I don’t think you can easily get used to them after not seeing them for so many years. It seems most of the city has an unforgettable view because of this. I can’t stand to see people so sad, in all honesty, and I don’t say this to undermine her pain, I just can’t help to empathize, so I told her to get her mind out of the trance of losing someone, “Hey ma’am, you know, this is the first time in my life I’ve truly seen mountains.” She scoffed for a second and smiled at me in a confused trance, obviously she could see my accent was different to that of her own, so she asked in a head tilting fashion, “Is that so?” See the thing is, even in Barranquilla, the place I lived for a good chunk of my life, is sort of packed with small hills, making the city’s infrastructure extremely complex as its basically a maze of a small yet steep hills, that much you can actually get from the etymology of Barranquilla, even so, I considered this mountainous at an altitude of eighteen meters above sea-level, that’s about two more than Miami. Medellin is around a thousand and a half meters above sea level. Maybe that’s why I felt so lightheaded and relaxed up there, I could feel my blood flow. I told the lady that in a way, it served as a metaphorical allegory for loss, sort of, the mountains are literal figures of permanence and continuity, they almost contradict that it is to be alive, which is an extremely ephemeral experience. So, if she thought of mountains as her loved one, then they too would be as permanent as the mountains. She told me the mountains didn’t mean much to her as much as they did to me since she grew up around them, but I think that’s where our thoughts clash. Right now, I sort of don’t give a damn about my family members who are alive, they don’t occupy my every thought and fill me with anxiety as does the death of a loved one, and if those mountains where to suddenly disappear, she too would feel that loss and anxiety because looking out at night of your window to see the mountains that light up like a Christmas tree, and lightly contemplating their beauty without realizing it, is an experience that is so integral and if you add those who you’ve lost to it, they never really leave. It is like fabricating your own philosophy of life, a mythology even, to never lose your loved ones. I think, and this is more of a personal stance, that the soul of a person exists and persists and while I don’t know here it may go, I do think that even after death the good deeds and thoughts you have towards someone persist. Maybe even if the soul doesn’t stay behind or even exist, for a personal level, holding on to something is a lot more valuable than letting it go and forget about it. After a while she stopped sobbing and we parted ways. Maybe the mountains are my loved one too. Somehow.
I don’t think my metaphor makes much sense at all, really. But maybe I just want to think of my uncle as big unmoving sort of figure, a tall mountain that embraces me as the sun sets. He always has had a big, kind and soft presence. For me at least, I do hope that he is there for me even after death. I know he and I weren’t even that close, he was always sort of ill. I don’t think I’m a person who has a way with words.For the first time in a long time, I saw mountains. Rising above me, up and up every step I take, almost towering over me. I know they don’t grow so quickly, but it is almost empowering see, every time I look up to the sky they seem meters higher and higher the previous time. I wish I came here under better circumstances, maybe that way I’d enjoy the climate of the city, colloquially known as the city of “eternal spring”. I think that name fits really well, its almost as if everyday during the year was Miami during what we call “Winter. In here, as it hovers so close to the equator, you’d expect it to be blisteringly warm, but since it’s located smack in the outreaches of the Andean mountain ranges. It is uncharacteristically crowded with weirdest endemic plants, or perhaps they were introduced later on. It is truly a wonder how palm trees manage to grow kilometers above sea level. This area is known to be famous for its ability to grow coffee so productively. You can see the plains that reside below from the mountains, in a way resembling Machu Picchu. This place is surrounded by skyscrapers that have no hope in surpassing the mountains. I saw a lot of succulents, mostly cacti (of the highly prickly variety), amongst the pines, palms and roble trees. At the hospital, I met a woman of fifty, maybe even sixty years of age, sobbing by the balcony of the ICU, which just so happened to be at the very peak of the seven-story building. I was there, waiting for someone to tell me how my uncle was doing, if he’d make it or not. I looked at the mountains, in awe because I don’t think you can easily get used to them after not seeing them for so many years. It seems most of the city has an unforgettable view because of this. I can’t stand to see people so sad, in all honesty, and I don’t say this to undermine her pain, I just can’t help to empathize, so I told her to get her mind out of the trance of losing someone, “Hey ma’am, you know, this is the first time in my life I’ve truly seen mountains.” She scoffed for a second and smiled at me in a confused trance, obviously she could see my accent was different to that of her own, so she asked in a head tilting fashion, “Is that so?” See the thing is, even in Barranquilla, the place I lived for a good chunk of my life, is sort of packed with small hills, making the city’s infrastructure extremely complex as its basically a maze of a small yet steep hills, that much you can actually get from the etymology of Barranquilla, even so, I considered this mountainous at an altitude of eighteen meters above sea-level, that’s about two more than Miami. Medellin is around a thousand and a half meters above sea level. Maybe that’s why I felt so lightheaded and relaxed up there, I could feel my blood flow. I told the lady that in a way, it served as a metaphorical allegory for loss, sort of, the mountains are literal figures of permanence and continuity, they almost contradict that it is to be alive, which is an extremely ephemeral experience. So, if she thought of mountains as her loved one, then they too would be as permanent as the mountains. She told me the mountains didn’t mean much to her as much as they did to me since she grew up around them, but I think that’s where our thoughts clash. Right now, I sort of don’t give a damn about my family members who are alive, they don’t occupy my every thought and fill me with anxiety as does the death of a loved one, and if those mountains where to suddenly disappear, she too would feel that loss and anxiety because looking out at night of your window to see the mountains that light up like a Christmas tree, and lightly contemplating their beauty without realizing it, is an experience that is so integral and if you add those who you’ve lost to it, they never really leave. It is like fabricating your own philosophy of life, a mythology even, to never lose your loved ones. I think, and this is more of a personal stance, that the soul of a person exists and persists and while I don’t know here it may go, I do think that even after death the good deeds and thoughts you have towards someone persist. Maybe even if the soul doesn’t stay behind or even exist, for a personal level, holding on to something is a lot more valuable than letting it go and forget about it. After a while she stopped sobbing and we parted ways. Maybe the mountains are my loved one too. Somehow.
I don’t think my metaphor makes much sense at all, really. But maybe I just want to think of my uncle as big unmoving sort of figure, a tall mountain that embraces me as the sun sets. He always has had a big, kind and soft presence. For me at least, I do hope that he is there for me even after death. I know he and I weren’t even that close, he was always sort of ill. I don’t think I’m a person who has a way with words.