A man and his time in a field of peace and harmony. |
I am Iona. I am currently standing in a field on the outskirts of town. The radiant sun creates headlights out of dandelion seed heads. The dew is evaporating off of the grass, leaving a thick layer of fog over the ground, which vanishes like a playful ghost over the tree line. The breeze sails over me, throwing my hair into every direction imaginable. I feel infinite. I feel as if the sun is in the sky just for me. My arms are outstretched, forming a T, like a mast for invisible sails. My mind is completely free. I am not thinking about the job I’m skipping. I am not thinking about my loving girlfriend who I hugged before leaving our apartment. I am not thinking about my parents who I called last night. I am not thinking about my fortunate life. I am not thinking about my accomplishments. I am not thinking about my tired arms. I am not thinking about the note I left on the fridge. I am not thinking about anything. I am completely at peace by myself on this grassy hill. This empty moment is priceless. You can’t just buy times like this. Jewels are always prettier when they aren’t encrusted onto some useless metal. The wind picks up. I am completely alone on this hill. The sun is at an angle implying that it’s still before noon. This moment is perfect. It’s flawless. It’s like a completely white canvas. Who could ask for more? I could not. Now’s the perfect time. I close my eyes. I take in a very large breath, soaking in as much of the crisp air that I can. Then, after what seems like eons, I lift a gun up to my head and pull the trigger. Who could ask for more? |