The sun is rising just above the east horizon, gently edging its way toward the sky and away from the mountaintops. A chill breeze runs hastily through my hair. The cold air makes my throat dry and my eyes water. I'm trotting down my driveway, just walking.

When I make it to the end of the driveway I can see the sunrise clear as crystal. Cutting through the horizon, two birds shone together against the backdrop of the sun. This place is a lonely place. The nearest neigbhors are but miles away.

Some mornings I would sing, feeling the resonance in the back of my throat piercing through the silent mountain air. Other times I would shout things in frustration that nobody would ever hear. And then sometimes, I would simply stand there in complete silence, just staring in awe at the sun-soaked mountains.

It's times like these that I transcended my daily existence; and each time I become a little bit less ordinary. You once told me that "the most beautiful things are that of nature". I believe you now.

 

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