Hiking | Roads Less travelled | Tacenda

Flannel shirt-thrifted, Jeans are from Zara.
 Converse shoes, Aldo sunglasses

Pictures by me and freind

Words by me

I can't feel my hands and I lost my favourite pair of sunglasses. "In April, the leaves look like it has been dipped in red with a lot of care. You have to come back in April.", he said. A group of hikers passes us by. I turn towards him, "Autumn never seems to stop beguiling me, you know. Maybe it's the way the world prepares itself to let go. How they embrace the goodbyes. I read it somewhere but it was about winter.". Bandu drags the stick over the sand and pebbles, drawing his initial and then he smiles like he knew something uncommunicated about the trees or goodbyes. "The nature knows it better than us... the goodbyes....the letting go. Rue, you have to come back in April, the rhododendrons are in full bloom, something equally fascinating about new life, the start of something magical, the first hello." He lets out the smoke and drags another puff, "you want one? I saw you smoking behind the cottage last night, you came back and sat in front of the bonfire. You looked like you were thinking of someone." I tug on my beanie and wrap the coat tighter around me. Three layers of wolle and absolutely nothing to fight away the shiver running down the left side of my spine. I can't think about him now, there's not a time I'm not thinking about him. Thinking about the last time I replied him in one word, too afraid I might spill out a part of me if I say anymore more. Bandu walks by a little faster, "you comin'? I'll go and start on the lunch. Drop by the office at the end of the sanctuary gate. Tell them about your sunglasses."

***

I come back to see the bonfire is still on, everyone left. Sitting down on the wooden bench I pull out another cigarette. Maybe later..... I could stop thinking about him, the smile, the first words exchanged- do I even want to? I knew what I was doing. I refuse to acknowledge that part of me. To write it down in a paper. Lock it up in a bottle and throw it far away in the sea. The dog (Shal) snuggles up beside me and the book is open on my lap. Milan Kundera talking about Thomas and his erotic friendships; morning after, Tereza sleeping soundly by his side, fingers tangled. Shal stirs beside me. Are my thoughts loud enough to disrupt his nap? I hear a mingle of laughter and music coming from downstairs. They start singing "What Makes You Beautiful". The dog looks up to my face. I stroke his head, "You hear that Shal? Isn't that surprising, love?" He puts his paw on my leg and snuggles closer. I can feel it on my face, the chapped lips and the cold tip of my nose. 'Maybe later....maybe I don't want to'..... I think it starts snowing after a while.