It's as if time was standing still. Not a sound nor movement from the green mass surrounding me. Lake Parika reflects a solid, saturated blue.
𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦
Suddenly there's movement. Across the plane tall grass bows, as if to allow something to pass. A dark band appears on the lake, shimmering across it. Then it reaches me, a slight breeze. I can barely feel it, but slender birch trees to my side sway in relief. Their leaves rub, creating a white noise that relieves me as well. I wonder how the rest of the folk here are faring on this hot, airless afternoon.
As I climb down the lookout tower, I notice a perfect spot for another sit-down. A relatively young pine has managed to gather soft moss at its base, just enough for me to rest some more.
Upon approach, I spot a small round hole in the ground. "Someone lives here," I think to myself. On a mossy mound near the hole, berries grow. "A pantry", I speculate with provisional conviction. Time to go, I've disturbed this place enough.
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