Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Little Happy Hills I don�t know how I got there. I don�t even remember planning on going there, wherever there was. One moment and I was just there. It was a rather tall and majestic hill. No, not a mountain, but a rounded hill. It was a grassy hill. Not patches of grass, but the �grass is greener on the other side� type of green grass. I drove up the hill, almost vertically. During the quick drive I wasn�t even sure how was it possible for my car not to... fall off. As I was getting near the top, I saw neat houses, neat yards, neat barns. It was a country side village. The houses were the standard country-side color, the barn color. That old white stacco color. Off-white. But for some reason, they just glowed. It glowed with freshness and content. Each yard had a house like that; that modern European village hut. Each yard had a barn painted the European barn color: dirty lumber. But it looked so Tim-Burton-fairy-tale like. I left my car near the entrance of the village. Not an actual entrance, but one that I assumed to be the marker of where the regular world ended and the content happy self-governing world started. I walked and wandered around. A smile wandered onto my face. My face started glowing with happiness, and my teeth were sparkling at each resident of this world. I was content and in awe. It was an autonomous little village composed of independent ten or so households. Everybody knew each other and everybody considered themselves as family. Everybody greeted me. Everybody decided I am family as well. Everybody decided to give me a position in their workforce. The police officer, a position rather obsolete to the village, greeted me with drinks in his hands. He led me to show me my new living arrangements. What if we needed clothes? No, need. Everybody always had everything they needed. Then everything disappeared. The hills. The green green yards. The green fields. The blue skies. The barns and the houses. The people and the drinks in the police officer�s hands. Everything was gone. Even the smile from my face. I tried going back to the place but I knew not the directions. I didn�t even know what country those hills resided in. I knew not of the proper continent. I was not even sure if that was the right planet, planet Earth. I knew not if it was a figment of my imagination or figment of surreal reality. I knew none of those things. And if I knew something, anything, a detail, an iota, then I was not sure of it in its completeness. But I was sure of one thing. One thing only. That no matter where that and those happy hills were, I will find them. I will travel the world and find them. I will achieve the goal of content-ness and being happy from the simple pleasures. Like the blue skies and crystal clear air. Like the smell of green grass after the morning dew. Like holding obsolete positions and still being happy that although there is no need for it, one won�t have to worry about supporting your family. I will find those hills. I will find the village. And this time, I will not let it escape me so suddenly. I will hold on to the happiness. This time, I will go for a drink with the obsolete policeman and I will leave everything at the foot of the hill. I will be happy from and for the little simple things. I will find that world. The small secluded happy world. 5:01 a.m. - March 10, 2007 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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