6 AM, and it's a beautiful Mussoorie morning. Look outside, and you will see that the sun hasn't completely risen yet. The world outside is enveloped in a thin sheet of gray fog. The birds are my early morning wake up call. Each bird has a different, distinctive call. They call me to join them in their flight. I consider myself lucky to live in such a beautiful place, when on some days, I even see a flock of green parrots fly by me.
The aromas from the kitchen downstairs arouse my sense of smell. Breakfast is just waiting for me to pounce on. Just as I think about how I'd give anything in the world for this moment, my dorm parent rings Alter Ridge's heavy brass bell and comes around to turn on the lights.
This is truly the Woodstock experience, and I like it just the way it is.
1 comment:
I enjoy your apt word pictures of Woodstock and being young. I'm another "ripe" Woodstock alumnus from around '55. That is a fine pic of some of my old haunts.
If you write, I'll read! (At least most of the time).Cheers!
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