I dream of mountains. Rugged, snow tipped, but not intimidating. Covered with springy grass, swaying in the wind. Dotted with wildflower quilts, all around, till the eyes can take in. Trees here and there, laden with colours, of different sizes and shapes but having one thing in common – numerous branches forming cool canopies.
A silent prayer forms subconsciously – may these reviving stations of our earth don’t just become dreams or memories.
