The rising sun peers through the clouds. Thin beams of yellow light kissing the leaves, the grass, the road. Their warmth breathes life into a monochrome world. Grey shadows give way to golden green. A silver mist rises, reaching with fingers of moisture, stretching, grasping for the clouds above. The mist swirls, waves of water pushed aside by a rhythmic pacing. Flashes of colour come trotting across the sea of green. Each impact throwing a shower of morning dew into the air. Rainbows form and fade in an fraction of a second. Forever following the galloping colours before them. Birds sing, the clouds separate and the mist burns away. The flashy stampede continues on. Some remain for hours, others barely minutes, some go slow, others are a blur. All are the same. One foot then the other, one step at a time. Thoughts of work and life are left behind. It’s just them and the fields. Them and the park. Them and their vibrant running shoes. Starting the day off right.
Looking out. Longing. Thinking. Not knowing what it was that captured you, but knowing that something most definitely had. The ocean beat against the rocks. White waves cresting and crashing across the cliffs. The sand beneath you as golden as autumn leaves at sunset, as soft as winters first snow and as warm and comforting as a lovers touch. The wind’s constant kiss was ever present. It’s force threatening, but never aggressive, never personal. Yet it was all yours. A universe encased. No nagging interruptions, no drains upon your time. Just the constant thrust of water against land, of air against rock. It draws you in, pulling you from life, to install within you a rebirth. On the edge of the world, near the end of the map, you find what you never knew was lost – you find yourself.