Terror

The feeling of chancing upon a hidden treasure island is most amazing, breathtaking and soul-filling. And to think it is right by where I live! Well alright, it is neither a secret nor that big of a deal since you can always find these nice scenic places, isolated from the city, in many parts of the Netherlands. But here's how my discovery goes:

Enter a narrow alley, pass a few country-style houses, a running stream that connects the front yards, through a long, winding path of tall trees, crickets, and cows gazing by the side, sun beating on their backs. At the end, the trees give way to the open sea, a lone ship that shares the secret which only an exclusive few know. Wild land, wild flowers, glowing and growing, touched and moved only by the breeze,the sound of water, "how they shimmer, how they glimmer". I hear the creaking of old bicycles, I spot two lovers, brown and laughing, resting their heads on a deflated boat, then a group of boys drinking beer by the lake, somewhat hidden by the tall golden grass rustling in the wind. And me, out in the open, a rough spot, penning this indescribable feeling of awe and joy.

"When I came out on the street, I suddenly saw the world such as it really is. You see, we find comfort in telling ourselves that the world could not exist without us, that it exists only inasmuch as we ourselves exist...My line of communication with the world snapped, I was on my own and the world was on its own, and that world was devoid of sense - leaving nothing but an absurd shell, the same way an absurd sound is left after one has repeated sufficiently long the commonest word without heeding its meaning...The very sight of a human face made me want to scream."

(Terror, by Nabokov)