Fearing the unknown person living here I back away slowly and critically examine my surroundings closer. With all the fallen stonework, layers of dead leaves, and pieces of temple grounds uprooted it is hard to tell if someone lives here or not. I haven’t found any real signs of human habitation but that doesn’t mean much. They could just be very clever about hiding their traces. As though they don’t want to be found. With the size of the plot and knowing how much someone can eat whoever lives here is somewhere between one and four people. The land would not support more than that. A larger group would eat more food and be more likely to leave more signs of human habitation. Not having come across any domesticated animals I would have to limit the group further as not many of these plants produce much protein.
It occurs to me that they might be hiding from me for the same reasons I am hiding from them. I don’t know these people, I don’t know why they have come here, and I don’t know what they want. They don’t know that I don’t want to hurt them. They don’t know what I am running from. Hell I don’t even know what I am running from or what I am running toward. What am I doing here? My life has really fallen apart this year and I don’t know where to turn any more.
The melody of water falling draws me out of the garden. An ancient aqueduct stands tall. The air is cooler here. Green plants grow all around. The water comes in through a single source and is divided several times. Some flows around the space to cool it and then out to the garden to water the plants. Some dribbles onto bells and metal things to make beautiful music. The sound is haunting yet familiar. I listen for a long time and notice that the music changes over time as though playing different songs. The set up is delicate but precise and wonderful all at the same time. There is a great pool in the middle with a mosaic tiled basin. The water is so cool and clear that I can just make out the pink lotus blossoms at the bottom. Kneeling at the pools edge I dip my fingers in and luxuriate in the wonderful coolness of the water. Shivering with the memory of coolness I become lost in an old memory tracing my fingers back and forth through the pool.
I went to the stream often to swim or fish. I would even look for pretty stones, faeries, or gold which are the fantasy quests of children. I was alone much of the time so I would make my own fun. Growing up with a schizophrenic sister I could not trust her to go with me on my childish trips. She would have tried to drown me in the stream or thrown rocks at me in a fit of unknown rage. She was always angry with me and would hurt me badly if she or one of the voices in her head believed that I had wronged her. She would steal my toys, cut up my clothes, and shit in my shoes all for imagined slights. She never was normal.
When I couldn’t take her beating me for no reason any longer I would go to the river. I loved the river. All that water flowing with such purpose. As if each drop was important and traveling somewhere with purpose. I wished I was like the water and knew my purpose. Then I could have gotten away from that awful place to where I belonged. Instead of living where I was afraid to sleep because someone would do something mean to me. I always admired water for that reason and wanted to be like it. My heart ached and yearned to be more like the water. At least the water was always there when I needed someone to talk to. The river was one of few comforts of a hard life. I knew the water would one day take me away from this awful place and to my true love. All I had to do was believe.
The cool grass on the shore was also my friend. I could dry off on it after swimming as I never remembered to bring a towel. The towering trees would shade me so I would not get sunburnt. I love this spot. I was always safe in this spot. No one would ever follow me. No one would ever find me. No one would ever harm me in this spot. Most summer nights I would sleep here as it was more comfortable than my hot unairconditioned room. I wished all places could be like this one safe from harm, safe from ridicule, safe from people who would not understand. No one understood me. Only this spot understood me. Large bodies of water would always make me feel that way. As if I belonged. The water would call me all my life. I could never bring myself to leave the water for long. I would always return thirsty for more, for what a large body of water could give me and nothing else. No drug could match it. No high could out do it. Nothing is better than standing by a large body of water, with a cool breeze on my face, the sun on my skin. I would stand and breathe. That is the only time I would ever feel at peace.
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