Please note: I collected these stories, they are not mine. Keep that in mind when reading and commenting :)
it is a recent one, just week or two old, but already
one of my special ones.
Imagine a mountain. Imagine a steep mountain. 100 meters of elevation, a cliff on the top of the world. to the left only air, and 1000 meters lower I can see the valley. most mountains are slowly flowing, but due to the terraces this one is built of, there is a very binary thing going on. 1 mountain, 0 air. Somewhere on this gorgeous landscape he found the perfect bivak. A small cave, a few meters of rock towering over us, a small path, 1 meter of rock to the left, and next to that air. Imagine a man, tall, strong, big. Just everything is big about him, his arms, his smile, his strength. Right now he is coming around the corner, jugging a big tree behind him. He grins. Me Tarzan, you Jane. I am happy. So happy. small bubbles of joy fill me while I watch him make us a fire in the back of the cave. Meanwhile I tend to the woman part of our ordeal, spreading the beds, taking out the sleeping backs, making a last cup of thee, with some warm soy milk. The sky is so clear, I can see the milky way. We are on the mountain, and it is calling to us. No other people, no sounds, just us, the clear sky, the deep abyss to the left.
Imagine a mountain. Imagine a steep mountain. 100 meters of elevation, a cliff on the top of the world. to the left only air, and 1000 meters lower I can see the valley. most mountains are slowly flowing, but due to the terraces this one is built of, there is a very binary thing going on. 1 mountain, 0 air. Somewhere on this gorgeous landscape he found the perfect bivak. A small cave, a few meters of rock towering over us, a small path, 1 meter of rock to the left, and next to that air. Imagine a man, tall, strong, big. Just everything is big about him, his arms, his smile, his strength. Right now he is coming around the corner, jugging a big tree behind him. He grins. Me Tarzan, you Jane. I am happy. So happy. small bubbles of joy fill me while I watch him make us a fire in the back of the cave. Meanwhile I tend to the woman part of our ordeal, spreading the beds, taking out the sleeping backs, making a last cup of thee, with some warm soy milk. The sky is so clear, I can see the milky way. We are on the mountain, and it is calling to us. No other people, no sounds, just us, the clear sky, the deep abyss to the left.
I crawl into my sleeping bag, to keep my legs warm. We talk, we talk, and we cuddle. Strong arms around me, cold air against my face, it is freezing, but his warmth and the fire keep the cold away. He hugs me closer, and slowly strips me of my sleeping bag, the cold hits me like a hammer, thousands of small needles of pain. But then he is inside me, and the pain just a distant memory. I brace myself on holds of the rock (owh the joy of being a climber, of being strong enough to take this) and drown myself in the sensations, the sensations of him, of being here. Of feeling the cold, gazing upon the view, and of the things he makes my body feel. afterwards he tends to the fire, makes it so that it will glow the whole night. I crawl deep into my sleeping bag and curl up against my stuffed Hello Kitty. He looks, and starts to laugh. "what is that? Did you bring your cuddly toy up the mountain?". There goes my hardcore outdoor girl imago...
I started with a new special series: Weeks of Secrets and Memories. A while back I asked you stories, and I publish these stories now with a Notes to Ginny twist.
These first two weeks were about secrets you kept close and never revealed. There are wonderful stories of wonderful people who wanted to get the truth out! This week will be a collection of memories (some good, some bad) people send me.
I hope you like this series!
Lots of love,
Ginny.
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