Today, I got this photo taken from the top of the mountain range of Montserrat. Quite a striking rock formation with its distinctive pink conglomerate. Reaching its peak, I felt that familiar childhood nostalgia. A great reminder of how powerful imaginations are.
Growing up, I used to think mountains draw the edge where heaven and earth ends.
At the back of our old family house, I remember the plain golden brown farm that sets that seemingly endless horizon. And the backdrop is a mountain range — trying to blend in with the blue skies. Majestic.
What’s behind those mountains? Where does it end?
I can still picture that thought vividly. Closing my eyes. Bravely climbing to reach the mountaintops and leaning at the very edge where I believed to have been— where all journey ends.
And as I slowly open my eyes, the sun begins to slip behind the mountains. The skies dyed in red, orange, and purple.
Then, pitch dark.
