/lit/ - Literature

The dank humid air of the past 2 weeks had given way to gentle soft gusts of crisp cool air carrying the smell of the rice fields, dust, and water surrounding me. I had spent that time locked up in the monastery unable to leave, my days consisting only of extraordinarily difficult meditation and manual labor. Finally I could leave the old metal gates and explore the strange beautiful land around me. The rusty bike carried me down the empty dirt road, expanding as far onto the horizon as I could see, unfurling to the distant speck of the local village at the end. I could feel the cracked leather buckling underneath me, the bent spokes carrying the rusty tires along unevenly but with surprising ease. I could hear the birds overhead singing and the wind rustling the tops of the rice stalks. I could feel the pleasant sun warming up my skin and happiness swelling in my chest as I peddled along through the empty fields alone. I stopped briefly to take a deep breath and look around me, understanding clearly that nothing but this present moment mattered, and that this was the happiest and most carefree I could ever be.