Tonight I walked home alone from the local pub. I had just spend 10euro (including a tip) on 3 glasses of wine. I took the long way home, along the river, and as I walked I thought that the 10 euro spent was a bit much considering I had just bought 2 bottles of red for only 4 euro at the supermarket that day. I then laughed to myself as I realised that back home I would be lucky to get more than 1 glass of wine for 10 dollars at a bar!
My musings continued as I meandered along the small dirt path, listening to the sound of the river rushing by beside me. Suddenly I stopped in a particularly dark part of the track, looking up at the trees silhouetted by the waxing moon above me. It was past midnight and I was entirely alone, on a relatively deserted, poorly lit path… completely without any feeling of concern. I could never safely do that back home; walk home by myself at that hour of the night in the dark.
I gazed around me, at the moonlit river, the slumbering mountains with their fairy-lit chalets high up near the snow line, the stars peeping in and out of the clouds flitting by…and my soul overflowed with contentment.
How could I possibly ever return to live at home?
I belong in the mountains. I was born in entirely the wrong country, for this is where my heart overflows with joy, this is my paradise.