"What is the meaning of life? That was all - a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark".
- Virgina Woolf and the Languages of Patriarchy
We were standing by the railing, looking out to the man-made water body in front of us. It's early evening and already dark, and I was remembering stories about how fish the size of a child can be found in the lake.
There was a group of tourists taking pictures. Besides them, we were on our own.
"A lot of people say it's boring," I was telling him about how the place is growing on me, "but I love it here. It's like..."
"...you own the place." He finished my sentence. I looked sideways at him, and he smiled.
I returned my gaze to the dark and unassuming sight in front of me.
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