Member-only story
The whole island was swallowed by a heavy cloud. But it felt more like the cloud just dreamed of an island… and we were just an echo of someone’s imagination all along. We already knew that on this island, nothing dies — the air is so wet that when a branch falls off a tree, it continues to stay alive… yet once we actually entered it, we could not stop but wonder if it meant an eternity for us too.
I can’t explain the feeling you have when you touch a living tree that has been there for 2 thousand years. I can hear — it whispers something, but I don’t know the language. But, I can feel it smiles… like a parent smiles when he sees a toddler, with that smile that reminds you that every child is yours once you are a parent…
We meditate on trees, hide in their hollow spaces, and read the silence like a poignant poem…
The fog is so dense that we are immediately lost inside of it. Not that it bothers us. Being lost makes us free… nothing judges us besides our fates.
