Mountain Visits
When I was young, my mother would take me on these enchanting trips to a mountain where we would visit a special woman who lived there. This mountain was a haven of solitude, with just that one household perched on its slopes. It felt like stepping into a different world each time we went.
The woman we visited had a unique home filled with charm and wonder. One room was a treasure trove of decorations and crafts, adorned with sparkling crystals and gemstones. It was like walking into a mystical gallery where every item had its own story and magic.
Her garden was equally mesmerizing. It was always brimming with the most delightful fragrances, as if each flower and plant was chosen to create an atmosphere of serene beauty. The scents would linger in the air, wrapping around us like a gentle embrace.
On one of these visits, I remember bringing back two paintings from her collection. They were simple yet beautiful, and they still hang in my room today. Every time I glance at them, I'm transported back to those peaceful days on the mountain.
Now, as I sit in my room and gaze at those paintings, I often find myself daydreaming about returning to that mountain.
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