Every evening, I used to watch the sun go down from a low hill on a small island where my grandfather’s cottage was located. In the distance, you could see a big rice farm. As the wind went by, the rice trees moved with such a vibration! This movement created light and shadow as the farm caught the last rays of the sun. Night fell quickly on this small island, and in the warm, moist atmosphere one could hear the waterfall from a mountain nearby. I always remembered the feeling of that clean, clear cool water falling continuously over my naked body after a day in the sun, the feeling of freshness, nature and innocence. Surrounding the waterfall were flowers and coconut trees where birds built their homes. Nearby, there was a small curving path that led to a wooden cottage which my grandfather had built himself. He had also built furniture for the cottage. On a cool night, my grandfather could drink tea and read poems by the fireplace. Sometimes he looked out the window to see stars. He could even name each one of them. Now my grandfather is no longer alive and I can no longer go back. It was a beautiful cottage where I spent many summers during my childhood.
- by an ESL student, pre 1990