We were going uphill. The track was thin and slippery. There was no use in opening the umbrella: the wind would either flip it over or take it away in a moment. Probably both. There's no use in having an umbrella with you when the weather is bad, I'm always thinking about dropping the habit of carrying it with me when the clouds are grey, but I still carry it around sometimes. Why sometimes, I always carry useless lumber, umbrella included.
We, two of us, were going uphill.
–One day this ascent will finish me. I have already went this path a million times, and hundreds of them were entirely made of thinking that I would die here from cold. Or hunger. But more often from cold. Or maybe both. All in all, I certainly feel that either cold or hunger, or both will kill me before I climb this mountain. I've felt it hundreds, no, thousands of hundreds of times. And I feel it right now.
I stopped to catch my breath for a second.
–Meanwhile this is all absurd. If only I told anyone about this mountain, they would probably imagine something truly epic, with snow, rocks, cliff and stuff like that. Nobody would think that this is merely a sidewalk. Just a sidewalk. Yes, with stream of cars flying on arm's length from us, but... how long is this track? About 200 meters? I don't know a bit about distances. A hundred miles if you ask me. Remember Holden? Was this bed ten miles on ten miles? I like his numerals.
However, as we were talking, we have long finished our fifty-mile-long ascent. Standing on the footsteps of my house, I have completely forgotten that I have just escaped a terrible death from cold and hunger.
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