#pic1000
Our Vršac mountain has no ski slope.It has no ski lift.No cable cutting through the sky, no chairs hanging above the snow.
But as I look at picture,I imagine it all being there.As if it has always existed.As if the mountain itself is silent,waiting for us to add what is missing.
The ski lift in the image hangs in the air like an unfinished thought,suspended between beginning and end.Below it,the mountain breathes softly,wrapped in snow that dulls everything-footsteps,voices,fears.The chairs look empty,but they are not.They never are.They are filled with the stories we carry,even when we think we are traveling alone.
As I look at this picture,I feel that familiar mix of excitement and weight.Height is not only there to offer a view,but to remind us how much responsibility we carry while rising.Life often lifts us without asking if we are ready.We don’t control the speed.We don’t choose when it stops.We simply sit,look around,and try to stay steady.
I imagine two people on that lift.This is a story about me and her.
Two minds.Two worlds.Different ways of seeing the same height.
Between us stand the small ones—male and female minds,an older brother and a younger sister.Our children.Words feel unnecessary at that height.Silence speaks louder.And I,as the head of the family,always carry the responsibility for the cable above us—the one that holds us,but the one that could fail if I am not careful enough.
One of us thinks about the fall.About slipping.About mistakes.The other already imagines the top,the clean line of untouched snow,a world that briefly feels simpler.
The same journey. Different thoughts.
And between them,children who believe everything will be fine simply because we are there.
This picture reminds me that progress rarely looks heroic.It is slow,exposed,and cold.You are visible.You cannot easily turn back. But if you endure the silence,if you protect those you love and keep your balance,the reward is a perspective that changes everything.
Sometimes it doesn’t matter that the mountain has no lift.
It is enough that we carry it within ourselves.
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STOPA lovely entry. A part reads like a poem. If you ask me a lift isn't important.
Thank you for the comment.Somehow in this group of freewriters I am most inspired to write about some topics that tickle my imagination, and I like to mix it with reality.