It was a day very much like this days that take place between the worldwide celebrated Christmas and New Year. I’m not sure if the current days or the current feelings have let this words be.

My feet stumble on the steep hill, carried on by something like a promise of breeze in warm humid days. Such joy there is with the known laughs and voices around me, with the wild raspberries just waiting for brave agile hands that can manage the thorns and hold them hostage into mouths, with the bug bites scratching while looking at a horizon of velvety mountains and a clear blue sky.

My hands are firmly caressing the grass on the side of the hill. It’s a wonderful view, an unforgettable memory in the making, a thrill for the waterfall that I will soon get to see. But beyond all that, it’s so high. So high and the possible fall seems so endless… I have built a little bit of fear inside me, as if I were into a transparent elevator. Hold on to the plants’ roots people, and try not to look down.

There it is, before my one decade old eyes… Marvel gets mixed up with annoying sounds from other people, warning of not falling into the cold river course. Nature being herself, with herself. A virgin looking place with the power of turning every person into a conqueror of a new land in a new world. A place where piano songs are born and lovers’ sweet words are kept safe for eternity.

It’s time to go back and the water won’t stop falling until the day I will return, even if it is what it seems as we go further and further away and the water’s songs can’t reach my ears anymore. The same path must be followed on the contrary direction. The hill shrank to a shorter height and the fall seems now to be impossible. Why is this? Does every experience have something to teach? Does every path become a part of us once we cross it for a first time? Does facing fear once make it get smaller each time? Do the good things always overshadow fear?

…Beautifully and not fearless, as the walk on the hill. Eventually and slowly, as the turning of a sunflower. Strong and delicate, as the waterfall.


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