Collection 2017, Spring: Unperturbed

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I thought I was the only one who knows this place. Or who regularly visits this place, at least. And I didn't expect to see a cotton-candy-haired boy on the other side of my little daisy-covered hill, arms stretched wide open as the young spring day sunset wind whipped his hair around and taking deep breaths. I was quite upset because I thought this place would be my private scenery, my world. I was slightly curious as to what a little boy was doing all on his own too, in the middle of nowhere. But oh well, I let him be, thinking he would go away. I headed down the other way to begin my sketch, ignoring him. I went back home when it was dark, and forgot about him entirely. It was a Sunday, and Sundays were the only days I let myself loose from my principles. Intermittent fasting, sugar diet, low fat diet and no snacking rules were gone to reward myself for the hard work I've put into the week. Sunday was the day I could lie down on my hill and paint, breathe fresh air instead of my stuffy office's air conditioner. The day I could be alone again after a suffocating 6 days of having to be in places full of people. I went home happy, because I finished my rather questionable first sketch: the one that would turn into the painting I'm writing on right now.

The next Sunday, I returned to my hill to watch the sunset with my new sketchbook again. There he was, sitting on the edge of my hill. He was hugging his knees, and his oversized T-shirt made him look so small. Out of curiosity, I gathered the courage to approach him.

"Hello?"

He turned around. He.. wasn't a little kid. He looked just about as old as I am. He tilted his head to the side, remaining expressionless.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Jimin."

I nodded slowly to hide my surprise (because I thought it was a girl's name) and sat down next to him. The ball of light orange seemed sleepy as it rested above the hills and meadows that my place overlooked. I haven't given it (my place) a name yet. The flowers in the meadow were mostly purple, pink and yellow. It used to be a tidy garden, but after a few years of negligence, the colours mix up and blend in with each other. It looked nice along with the pale blue sky that I always saw when I turn my head around and the colourful clouds that the sunsets of my place always provided. I've made several paintings of my place, each of different scenes the hills displayed.

"You've been here before?" He asked me quietly.

"Yeah. It's like my hometown," I whispered back slowly.

He closed his eyes and smiled, letting go of his embrace on his legs to spread his limbs out on the grass like an eagle.

"You are lucky," he rasped.

I looked at him. And I'm not good with words but I dare say he was angelic. I smiled at his comment of my place and laid on the grass, next to a Stranger. Or perhaps someone whose name I knew. All I heard then was his steady breathing, the distant sound of bird chirps and the rustling of the trees that circled the unkempt meadow and lined the hills below. I guess it was a tiring week, because we both fell asleep on the minty greenery. I didn't know I fell in love with the moment. But I do now.

March 19 2017, of March 5 and March 12 2017