Here I am now, there world in front of me so beautiful and peaceful. This is what I would call a true work of art. The fields of the honey colored grass grabs my eyes as the wind blows, they appear like the ocean waves as they dance around. The sun is above all, and its rays splash all over the land and turn the world into a gold color, nothing else like it. It blinds me, and yet I cannot take away my eyes from the artist of the mountains, and trees. I look below me, and the see the lonely patch of trees. It seems that I am the only moving thing here, accompanied by the dancing tall grasses. Far beyond, the mountains extend forever, each row of mountains becomes less visible than the one before, and each with their own unique outline and geographical features.
It leaves me in awe, it’s an image that I will never forget, and I will hold it within my memory for as long as I can. This is where childhood was, out in the open, where I could run and play with no limits. Nature was my best friend, I had no fear of anything out here, I slept on the grasses, and woke up early in the morning to find the sun rising. Rinsing the black of the mountains and trees, I watched it wash the darkness away with the color of red, and then orange, as it moved higher in the sky, it was the sign of another inspirational day. The weather was always nice, with the sky always clear, it never seemed to rain here. But yet the trees and all the other vegetation managed to grow. It was my place, where most of my first years were lived. This is where my influences and later inspiration had their roots. I loved it, and never wanted to leave this place, my wonderful place. But yet, it was taken away from me in an instant.