I just had to peer down. Down the bright red cliff that didn’t seem even remotely unnatural. If I went back in time and looked at it again, I’d think I’m on Mars. Not on that day. This was my city and I was no stranger to its soil.
But when you peer down a cliff that high, you become a stranger to everything. Life? School? Tomorrow’s 4 PM tennis match? History block test on Wednesday?
None of them matter. What you really want to do is let go. Walk 50 paces behind. Run like you’ve never run before. Barefoot, carefree. Soft, red, moist fertile soil underneath. Run faster than you ever had. Or will. By the time you’re at the edge of the cliff you’re almost breathless.
And then you jump. Jump off that cliff.
Feel the wind make wild love to your hair. Smile. You still have to work against the wind to smile. But then that’s how love works. Note how you missed that large rock jutting out of the wall of the cliff. That run up was magical. It terrorized batsmen when you were 9. In your head it still does.
And suddenly you’re back. You are you again. You with the tennis camp. You with the social science test. You the 12 year old who hates the fact that he knows exactly how it’s going to turn out.
You hold your mom’s hand and walk away. You can’t but look back at the cliff with confusion. Like a hostage who loves his kidnapper.
Landscapes don’t follow the laws of society. And you don’t want to. You were made for each other.
The void. It calls you.