Prose by Piotr
My safe place is far away in the mountains. The smell of earth entering My nostrils as I take a deep breath of cold crisp air that feels like winters first snow. The taste of the water that I drink is as glacier runoff, and minerals, yet so pure and good to me. It would be surrounded with trees so old, but they would never die or molt. From the highest summit, I’d be able to see a blanket of green ocean, with jagged beautiful teeth, and clear, clean blue skies above.