The gardener's dream and the eighth wonder of the world.
Arrowtown-Queenstown-Te Anau-Milford Sound-Te Anau-Queenstown
Before I left on my travels I wrote a text on gardening and dreams. Of the first one I didn't have a clue about and of the second one I knew something. After spending nearly half a year abroad, seeing, experiencing, thinking, dreaming, I have come to learn a thing or two about the first one and realized that the second one is something I know more about than I think.
In the text I said I would be sitting on the shores of Milford Sound, right in the same place from where the photograph, which I had attached to the text, had been taken. The dream never came true – it became better than truth.
Mountains that would descend into the crystal clear sea, waterfalls that were nothing but threads of silk running down the green covers of the cliffs, glaciers looming in the horizon for the wonderer to gaze at. Rudyard Kipling wasn't wrong to call Milford Sound the eighth wonder of the world.
Sometimes I feel like shedding a tear for no reason. The feeling rises up from my throat, making its way up as if it were a carrot pulled up from the ground, and clings itself to the corners of my eyes. I wipe the tears which never were off with the sleeve of my shirt and find myself always as surprised when looking at the dry sleeve. Milford Sound, a flower in my garden of dreams, gave me a reason to shed tears, which were never shed.