It was mid September, and daily life was about to kill me. Not that life itself was being bad. To be fair, life was actually going well. Work, money, love, friends, family, everything was pretty normal. I had no big problems about any of these things. What happened was that somehow that was simply not enough any more. It was not a choice. Not something that came to me by reflection. It was just a deep inner felling that something was still lacking. Life was lacking. It was time. Time to taste life to its deepest. There was no other way. None stupid consolation could now make my heart stop telling me that it was time to leave what I had before. I had to go away. I had to run to a far away land in order to discover what was that mystery call coming from my soul. I had to find my inner peace. And that was the moment when I went alone to find myself in the cold mountains. I needed solitude. None prophet could help me now. None holy scripture. None philosophical teaching. I already had enough from all of them. I simply needed the silent fresh air that existed in the wild mountains. So there I went. And that was the beginning of the whole thing.
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