If I had to choose the fondest memory view from this spring’s trip to 2015, I would have to say – the aerial view of April.
The lime green fields below me sprang ripples like a shivering lake. The buffered chatter of children in the fields led me through April, navigating me through the clear skies and the painless routes. The wind was spreading me out across the whole year, rolling and rolling until I hit a giant tree. Maybe not as gigantic as it was obvious within the landscape. Inflated as I was, I had no intention of staying there for too long. All I wanted was to see the greens of past April and the May tree. In a rush, in one blow.
My aluminised body cast some kinda shadow over the fields, like a horse chasing the waves. The green was reflected on my inflated body, with a golden halo making it warm. Although I was flying, it felt more like diving into honey. The sticky images were sticking onto me and I could almost taste that honey filling up my insides. I grew heavy and heavier in that thought, it was weighting me down. That’s where I hit the below mentioned tree and where I lost the air that kept me up.
Deflated and deformed, I hung there while the children were laughing at me. The laughter that was pointing out that it was exactly where I was supposed to be. I laughed along, along with the fields and the trees.