Cottagecore in Bangalore

The goldfields have always impressed me, I stood there atop a small hill right across a small cottage where me, my brother and my mother lived, I stood there for a good while marveling at the flowers' innocent beauty.

As I gazed upon the floral encrusted fields, an elderly voice interrupts my meditation. "Your father loved this view as well. You remind me of him sometimes." I pat my mother's wrinkled hand. "I'll find him, Mom. Don't you worry. You've prepared me well." "Just come home to me."

I could hear the pain in her voice, a quiet desperation just below the surface. I had worked my entire life for this. I wasn't going to fail. I *couldn't.* Adjusting the bag slung over my shoulder, I nodded to her once, before stepping onto the path and starting on my way.

She wasn't going to stop me, just because she played the victim. It was her own fault that she had ruined her life, and she wouldn't ruin mine. Even though we were both homeless, I knew I wouldn't be for long.

I started chopping down a medium sized tree, and stripping its bark. It should be enough to build a small cottage of my own.