The Long Grass

The long grass moves slowly across the hill in wide rolling waves from the bottom up through the middle towards the top corner as if the land was almost breathing itself sweeping up towards the top of the hill and towards the lighthouse. Pablo stood for a moment struck by the sheer beauty of it. The hillside was alive. Thousands and thousands of blades of grass moving and rising together. It was almost as if someone was somehow guiding the movement like a conductor with invisible hands brushing across the surface of the hillside. He walked towards the edge of the old lookout platform and sat down on the ledge. The wind moved through the grass again a soft hush a long slow sweep. He felt sleepy it looked like an ocean wave most like a lullaby but there was no water here only wind and time. Pablo felt himself drift not asleep not fully awake just somehow suspended in what he would later describe as side time.  Not asleep not a daydream but somewhere else just suspended in the rhythm of the hill. And for a long time he did nothing just softened his glaze looking out. When he finally opened his eyes again he felt different somehow refreshed as though something quiet had passed through him and left him somehow lighter. Learn more: https://eattmag.com/start/ Support the project: https://earthlight.gumroad.com/