The sound of the stream filled him. It was stronger than the feel of the sweet air as it chilled his lungs. He inhaled again, letting the water’s chatter chisel the chaos from his mind like one would chip ice with a pick. He closed his eyes to the beauty that surrounded him.
He closed his eyes.
He had to. The mindless clatter of the city was far behind him, as was the suffocating cloud of car and factory excrement that forced him to protect the soft-pink of his lungs with a mask. That was a lifetime away, and though he carried the memories of that filthy termite-mound-like existence with him, the sound of the water running over the rocks lifted the weight of those phantoms.
Water. Life. Life.
Note: That’s what I was inspired to write. What about you?
*Gorgeous photo by Daniil Silantev