Collecting Moments

In the quiet hours before dawn, I find solace by the ocean, a refuge from the relentless tide of news. A gentle fog rolls in from the depths, draping the world in a milky shroud. As I step into this ethereal mist, it wraps around me, lending an air of enigma to the waking town. Moments flicker by — ephemeral and fleeting, leaving behind no echo of their passing. Fishing boats glide through the gossamer haze, only to be swallowed by the infinite embrace of the ocean. A solitary figure on a bicycle materializes along the shore, then fades into the misty void. There are no bitter feelings, no lingering memories — only the pure essence of the present, a singular moment in time.

For quite some time, I had lost the spark of adventure and the thirst for exploration. I had grown hesitant and indecisive, even in simple things like venturing out into nature and following hidden paths. But yesterday, something stirred in me. I felt a sudden urge to face the unknown and savor freedom again. It was a short walk in the nearby forest, our first mushroom hunt of the season. We had two young energetic couchsurfers staying with us. When I told them we were going to look for wild mushroom spots, their eyes sparkled. “Finally, we’ll learn how to forage for our food when we camp!” — they exclaimed. There were a few hardly visible trails in the woods that I had noticed before but never got around to tracing them. We waded through thick undergrowth and thorny vines, until we reached a clearing where oily brown caps glistened under the pine needles and grass. Gradually making our way across the dense greenery, we filled the bags with Slippery Jack fungi, a delicious treat.