Painting a Picture


“Look right there, you can see it!” She points off into the horizon as she places herself down carefully on the rocky surface. As she sits, a large shadow is casted behind her but this is miniscule in comparison to the large shadows the cliffs in the distant created over one another. Her tanned legs blended in with the sun-kissed floor and by the number of indents in her shorts I could tell it was uncomfortable even before I sat down myself. I could feel the sharp prick of lost stones in my butt and the slight cool breeze that blew dust in our faces. These little distractions disappeared as soon as I shifted my gaze to where she pointed. I watched as she moved her hand horizontally from left to right in bumpy ups and downs as if she were sketching the mountains herself and each colour appeared from the inner depths of her mind stored away for this very moment. First a perfect turquoise far off, behind the cliffs, sometimes lighter and other times darker, carving out the hills  in a separate village, one by one, soft, elegant and breath-taking. The sky was an off shade of grey that almost blended into the hills. It looked upset at us, jealous maybe that we gave more attention to the details it engulfed. Even if I had stayed there, on top of those cliffs for a couple of months, my appreciation for such a sight would not have dropped a single bit. It may have even risen…And then the royal purples closer to us, that voiced their character, towering one another, giant, rough and raggedy but stern, stood firmly on their ground. Anyone else who may have attempted at describing this place to me I would not have believed them, because I sat there at that moment, speechless in awe. As her hand returned by her side, I felt her head turn to look at me but mine remained fixed on the wonder that was in front of me.


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