Rewrite of an old fiction.
Look out the window and you see a vast stretch of green for miles and a rocky patch of lake along the periphery. I’m told it takes an hour’s trek to reach the lake and the civilization.
When I was a child, my father used to say that we lived in heaven as we had the best views in the country. My friends agree. They are travellers, they go places. They’ve been to beaches, castles and cities that never sleep.
I’ve never travelled anywhere. I was born in this house, grew up to see a herd of cattle grazing along the plains. I remember waking up to sunlight painting each room with lights and shadows. I remember the smell of earth in rains, the feel of breeze along these plains. It was beautiful, I remember.
I played games with my two siblings in our vast backyard…
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