Saturday morning, 6 AM. The alarm rang once and I turned it off. Outside, the sky was just getting light—gray-blue. I put on an old jacket, grabbed a bottle of water, and drove out of town by myself.
It's not a big hill. Round trip takes about three hours. The path is all steps, some with moss—a little slippery. I walked slowly. Took two breaks. Barely saw anyone. Just birds. By the time I reached the top, I was sweating. The wind blew cold down my collar. I sat there for a while, not thinking about anything. Below, the town looked like a chessboard.
I thought about taking a photo for social media. Decided against it. Nothing to post, really. I'd just be looking at it myself anyway.
You look at design drafts all day. Colors, lines, proportions. Even when you close your eyes, the color blocks keep spinning. If I don't get out on weekends, I just sit on the balcony staring at nothing—sometimes for an entire afternoon. Old Zhang calls me a "hermit." I don't argue.
Coming down was faster than going up. I reached the bottom at 9:30. Stopped at a small shop and had a bowl of wontons. Sat on a plastic stool outside. The wind was still cold. The wontons were hot. Drove home afterward. There was a message from a client with design feedback. I glanced at it, didn't reply. I'll get to it tomorrow.
After I came down from the hill, I was still the same person—the one who edits drafts, the one who matches colors. But for ten minutes up there, I wasn't. And that was enough.