There is a mountain I drag behind me. It's made of memories. Everything I've done, everything I've thought and said, I'll drag this mountain until the day that I'm dead. I'll drag this mountain until it stops me dead. I'm looking at my mountain: as large as it is wide. Where is the heart of my mountain? It must be somewhere hidden deep inside. So I begin to look for gold in my mountain, along with those who've died with their mountains before. And I am not afraid, because I know without doubting that love is the shape of every living creature's mountain.
hi i love this piece if writing yes, all has to carry with us life from now and yesterday. great idea the heaviness of a mountian upon a human living and seeing..to carry on and learn.. love neace from saff
