A CASTLE IN THE HILLS.
Long ago, when I was a little girl and lived in a big city with my mother and grandmother, I used to gape through the glass wall in our balcony on the second floor. I was puzzled then, to see so many horses pulling wagons downstairs in the streets bringing veggies, fruits, small livestock and other wordly goods for the peddlers to the sales market place.
People gathered in a rush to buy cheap food. I was astonished to see the horses and other farm animals which were brought to the fair. My young heart would be left astray watching people's greedy hearts full of wrath. The fair was taken place on weekends. So, I would hear the hooves of the trotting stallions approaching the neighborhood, and I would rush to the glass wall to gape at the feast.
As a little girl around 6 or 7, I could not help feeling hurt inside for what my young eyes would have to watch every weekend. I was born a dreamer, an artist, a pro-life living being with all sort of good deeds inside my young heart. So, it was dreadful for me to catch a glimpse of those shattered, horrid, bloody memories of my childhood with so many things going on in the wrong way. My world was rather small, yet then I began to dream in expanding my world to other greater ventures with high goals and moral values.
As a little child, I began to think that those kind of grown adults would never become my role models. In fact, in my childhood, I began to develop the first outlines of my present philosophy of life.
Since my early childhood, I dreamed of living on top of the mountains surrounded by mother nature, birds and other precious animals. Perhaps, I was dreaming of living in a castle on the hills, a bluish yonder hill intimately entwined with the valley below.
I could still hear now, the gallop of those stallions flying freely in the blue horizon, and I could still hear my throbbing heart on top of the mountain.