Twilight

Isn't this the view I used to see from the west-facing window when I was small? At the end of the second floor corridor, there the window was, half covered with an old drawer. Through the other half, the sun was watched setting behind the mountain range, silhouetting dark the perfect symmetry of the mountain against deepening orange. I remember how I stood awestruck, simply awestruck by the grandeur.
The mountain has always been there, standing aloof, solitary and isolated even when clouds covered it, while I forgot about it, when I was born, when I was almost dying of whooping cough, throughout the time I spent on my life, in sorrow and in joy, when I was transfered, got married had a baby... swallowing up them all as if to trifle with them. As if to say all the things did happen but still nothing happened.