Never in my life had I thought so much about the nature of reality. For some peculiar reason my mind was unwilling to neglect the only true question: Why are we here? I had spent the majority of my previous life labouring over the banal ritual that life becomes for those who ignore the periphery and busy themselves with the life that’s ten feet in front of them. There had to be something more, I thought. Alas, such a question was far too trite, way too commonplace. Just think of all the golden age philosophers, who paced throughout their bucolic streets, pondering the exact same question.

 No. ‘Tis not the same I tell you. If one squints hard enough, one can sense cliché in the most dynamic of landscapes. But, who was I to say such a thing back then? A scraggly looking teen stranded in a foreign country is not exactly the archetype of a big time philosopher. In those times I spoke with my hands and talked with my feet, as if to pay tribute to the nomads who wander the material world searching for the metaphysical. Yet, I failed; I failed miserably.

 I had immersed myself into a routine of abstraction, as counterintuitive as it sounds. Each decision I made, I made for the sake of non-conformity, thinking that I was doing the world a service with my novel perception. I fell into this habit long before I found myself here, in this establishment.

 It was a sleepy, traditional Swiss café, the only place in sight for miles along the alpine trail. I tossed my backpack under the neatly-set table and let out a sigh as I prepared myself for yet another tedious conversation, laced with translation errors and misunderstandings. Much to my surprise and contentment, the waitress greeted me with an ebullient,

“Hi!”

 I knew right away; she was no foreigner. Her voice was distinctly southern, a Georgian dialect perhaps. At that moment, I had forgotten all rules of proper interaction and skipped straight to the question,

 “Where are you from?”

 She looked at me with a half-smile, shaking her head.

“I’m from Tennessee… That’s where my family is at least.”

 There was a several second pause, as I struggled to find an appropriate way to phrase my next question.

“So… what brings you way out here?”

 I asked with a chuckle. Her face grew slightly contorted and she gave me a blank stare. Something was up. I knew right away that something in her past gave her great sorrow.

 I glanced around the café, searching for another soul who might have muddied the waters. Nobody. We had all day. I stood up and motioned towards the window overlooking the nearby lake.

 “Maybe a walk?” I said, probably sounding like a complete idiot. I took her lack of words and enduring stare as a yes.

Looking back on it, I haven’t a clue why I did such a thing. More times than not I would have simply nodded my head at the poor girl and went about my business. But this, this was different. This had meaning. We strolled up the hilly trail, the waning afternoon light resting gently on our shoulders. Ten minutes went by; not a word. Then twenty; not so much as a murmur.

  The silence that was between us felt natural, as if speaking became some form of strange wizardry. I had forgotten my previous questions. And for all I knew, she had forgotten her previous qualms. We took a seat on a pine bench, overlooking a valley.

 Never before had I seen the forest with such clarity. I wasn’t quite sure if I was even thinking anymore; my thoughts became fluid and my mind started to bend. My philosophizing was broken by a tap on the arm.

 “Thank you. I needed this.”

 I still wasn’t completely thinking in proper terms again, as evidenced by my perfunctory reply, “Mhmm.”

 Normally I would have been harshly retorted to or slapped across the face, but this girl was different; she was profound. I began to think about our encounter. How fortuitous it was. It seemed to me that our interaction was foreseen. But, the more I thought, the more I realized how utterly absurd that notion was.

 By this time, the catharsis session that we had shared on the bench was gone. We were now standing in what could be best described as a pasture, wading through the high grass. Then the girl injected me with a question, without as much as a glace in my direction.

 “Do you think this is how it should be…? Life, I mean.”

 Her serious tone struck me. I was taken aback. What was I supposed to say? I said the first and only thing that came to mind,

 “Of course!”

 I felt no need to discuss the meaning of life. I was perfectly content with the meaning that lied in front of me, the beautiful forest scenery. Throughout my entire journey in this foreign land, I hadn’t experienced anything more enlightening than this pleasant walk. I was finally able to rid my mind of unnecessary thoughts. Or so it seemed. As our evening stroll progressed, the girl grew more vibrant. She patted me on the back and urged me onwards, always in a strangely optimistic tone. But by the time the sun had reached the horizon, I knew that we had gone too far.

“We should probably head back. We can’t get lost in these woods…”

 I said with a giggle. Her face remained placid.

“Oh come on! Just a little longer. We’re almost there.”

 Strange. I was unaware that our harmless stroll had a destination. I turned my head and slowly raised one eyebrow, to signal my confusion.

“You’re gonna love it. It’s my favourite place.”

 At this point, I knew not to ask questions. Her expression assured me that where we were going would be worthwhile.

 Ten minutes; still walking. Then twenty; “Almost there!” she said.

 By then, the sun had left us and the night-dwelling creatures began to roam about. I looked over at the girl, as if to confirm her existence. She had a soft orange lantern around her wrist. I grew impatient, resisting the urge to shout at her. I certainly hadn’t planned on stranding myself in the forest.

 “Tell me, what do you really plan on showing me?”

 I couldn’t see her countenance, but I could feel her mood in the silence that followed.

 “It’s not what I’m showing you dear.”

 A haunting sensation propagated throughout my body. The milieu shifted in that moment. The girl was no longer a figure of pleasant ambience. I closed my eyes, attempting to ward her off. I couldn’t. I opened my eyes; nothing changed. By then, the lantern had vanished.  A part of me had vanished too. I felt the girl’s soft hands on my forehead. She held them there for quite a while, as if to conjure my thoughts.

 “Are you ready dear?” a chilling voice called.

 Before I could respond, my body was shattered into a mosaic of conflicting viewpoints. I could see the plight of deaf; the pain of the blind. I no longer knew myself; I only knew who myself once was. I was dissociated into myriad contrasting fragments, each in a state of ghostly suspension. Knowledge was no longer a requirement; it became a tool utilized by the self-immersed. And for the first time in all existence, I felt as if I knew something, albeit nothing at all. Then, I heard the girl calling once more, far in the distance.

 “This is just the first stop!”