Tuesday, morning frost
Dear Diary,
Today I watched the birds fly over me again. They go everywhere! To oceans, to deserts, to cities with twinkling lights. I've been standing here for so many years, my roots so deep and my peaks so high, but oh how I wonder...
What does the ocean feel like? Does the wind taste different there? The clouds tell me stories of faraway places—golden deserts, green valleys, bustling towns.
I try to move sometimes. Just an inch. Just to see what it's like. But I'm so heavy with all these rocks and dreams inside me.
Tomorrow I'll ask the river—maybe it has traveled somewhere far. Maybe it knows my name in other languages.
I wonder, I wonder...
— Your Curious Mountain ⛰️