The Mountain: 2

for her, the eyes of the mountain, the very possibility of its existence, seemed to astound her. and in the moutain, she found some source of wonderment that perhaps, could awaken her from the mystery that she had so often pondered to herself; of what life itself was, and why her life had happened so far as such? the well was her resting place, where she had time to think, but the mountain solidified her curiosities, furthering her intellect and the planes of her mind. she appeared to be searching for some type of answer, and she had supposed that nature could provide her with a way to understand the environment that she was born in, and the extent of what happened around her, and in fact, why it happened. she had not the time to ponder on any other occasion, only when was to gather water from the well for her mother. living in a squalid house, a shanty on the outskirts of the village, she was to provide water for the daily intake of breakfast, lunch and dinner, and so that her mother could wash clothes. herself, she was with a certain closeness to her mother, while at the same time, a distance herself from the woman that she had sprouted from. she was unaware of the existence of her father, and had no idea who he was, or where he was. she assumed that he had perished long ago, but her mother had never mentioned the idea of a father to her, and since, had learned to keep it out of her mind. but, there was an emptiness there in the girl, the beautiful girl that felt she could see souls all around her, not only in people, but in everything that surrounded her. her loneliness would draw closer to her each night that she lay to sleep in her dark room with the windows opened, and no blinds to keep the wind out. she would stare expressionless at the deep ceiling, as if trying to communicate to it with her eyes. she would stare and stare, as if waiting for some form of communication to begin. one could assume that this irregularity of staring at the ceiling and walls each night, was in her own way, a unique calling to find the possibility, that love could breathe, and in fact, was an entire seperate entity from life itself. she was a girl of transcendence, her brown, dirt colored eyes, the tanned skin covering her body, and her twilight covered hair. a poor girl in a squalid home, with only chores to occupy her. but moreso, the well and the mountain to guide her hopes, that one day, she may trek over the naturally constructed monument and she may reach the top of the snow peaks and see what could lie over her; over her body, outside of her mind, outside of the space that she occupied, and perhaps, she could find love or some idea of what love was. yes, that would be the answer to her life, to journey to the mountain, to look out amongst its overpass, standing atop the white sprinkles and reaching out her hands to somehow latch onto what she was missing. the mountain that was both a physical barrier and a mental barrier that guarded her village from threat, and that also hindered her from seeing what lie on the outside world from her. that the village was not a world, but a tiny space where she had not chosen to live, that she was born into. something that she did not choose. perhaps, she thought, that if she saw over the mountainscape, she could pinpoint the direction that she wanted her life to take, and thus, her idea of love could sprout roots, and allow itself to grow...