The bus stopped in that ghost
village in the middle of nowhere, the name of the village was Chillas,
somewhere in the midst of the bosom of a rugged barren mountainous terrain. I
wanted to slide open the window of the bus but dust got into my eyes and nose
making it impossible to breathe and see after a while.
I distinctly recall that
being blinded by the scorching sun rays and choking on at least a handful of
glacier sand, I found a small firefly ignite somewhere deep within me, being
cupped ever so gently by an uplifting sense of presence. The presence of my
being.
I closed my eyes as my heart filled with a warm glow that had ignited a
profound idea, that somewhere down the road, there will be no sandstorms to
clog my throat and if I get lucky I might wake up next morning to find myself
lying in a boat gliding upon clear turquoise waters and a puff of air would
carry cherry blossom petals along.
