The Ghosts Of November
I want to disappear in the hills, where land stretches endlessly beneath the sky, slopes emerging and falling like silent waves. I want to wrap my arms around the pines and cypress trees, hoping they’ll hold me close. I’d sit atop that hill and watch the sunrise in a burst of hope and set in a soft goodbye. I'd start drinking chilled beer right at 5 am. Don't ask me why at 5. There is a thrill to it, you see, the taste of the forbidden which makes life alive. I want to live wild and free. But what does freedom look like? A life in which I am only responsible for myself? Maybe I would spend a night all alone in the wilderness. Not because I am fearless, but because I want to explore the wilderness and possess it. The forest calls to me; its solitude is a kind of freedom. “I know I might sound insane to you,” I said, half smiling. “Yes, you do,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you don’t need mountains, Sahil. You need a ward in a mental asylum.” She laughed again an...