Clouds are like floating cotton balls on sky, I thought while I was laying on the damp grass.

It was slightly after noon. I had found a little spot, almost dried up by the sun. Even though it was August, it was chilly - you know, one of those days where it rained a ton, but the sun still shone.

The wind was ruffling the long grass. It was starting to turn a bit yellow - the leaves were slowly dying. The bees were swarming somewhere in the distance and I am a hundred percent sure that a deer was roaming around at the edge of the forest.

I was still laying there on my back, arms resting by my sides and wrapped in a windbreaker.

This was my safe haven. Soon I would have to return to the city, but for now all these thoughts were out of my mind.

Or they could be candyfloss, without all of the colouring. You know the clouds. My yoga teacher always tells us that we have to let go of our thoughts and let them flow by like the clouds. That I did.

I have no idea how long I laid there in the damp grass. I could feel my clothes turning cold at first, then damp - as if I was melting into the earth, becoming one with Mother Nature. I would enjoy my last peaceful moments there in my haven, with no noise from traffic and no disturbance from people.

Only one other person knew of my little hideout. To find it, you would have to hike up the mountain through the woods. It was a coincidence - a wrong turn, in fact -  that made us stumble