Journey through the Margalla Hills

I was sitting in the back, talking to my sister in an extremely civilized way, when my parents decided that they had to end our discussion. I think we went through a portal and to the other side because the beauty was astonishing. The air was crisp and fresh, almost as if someone the vacuumed the area for dust, leaving the air as clean as you could get in Islamabad. I looked all around in astonishment because this was absolutely not like anything anywhere else all over the capital city. It looked as if the rain last night had bright green paint on it as well since everywhere I looked, there was the most refreshing and the brightest green you could think of. In the middle of July, it looked and felt like spring. Entering the foothills of Himalaya itself, it felt like an entirely new world. The air suddenly became far colder and suddenly this spirit of adventure was instilled in me. I felt as if I could just jump down from the highest peak of the hill and nothing would happen to me. We went on oohing and aahing, climbing higher and higher. We kept on curving and climbing until from on curve, looking below, the entire map of Islamabad lay down before us. I personally have not seen any body of water larger than a lake, so to me, the lake that lay down before me, looked just like as if a vast ocean. Islamabad looked almost peaceful from above. You could see how it was divided into large squares, and if you could squint until your eyes are ready to pop out, you could barely see the traces of the smaller squares and roads. The houses lay down before us as a beehive would look. Moving on, we went on the road just big enough for cars to come and go without any problems. Everywhere I looked, I could see trees and bushes all around me. All brighter than any green I had ever seen on a tree. We then stopped for a while because my sister was getting sick of sitting in the car. We stopped by a nice clearing in the woods, almost like any sort of beginning in the story where all those amazing adventures happen. Alas, I found no wardrobe or a bearded man telling me that I was a wizard. This part also looked as if there were a forest fire that happened here. Cows were grazing so peacefully, that I was compelled to pet them when my father reminded me about their horns. I could swear on even looked at me in the eye with this evil glint. My mother stared descending downwards when a goat started following here, the horns clear insight. Ou could see its eyes in slits like a snake at I, then went to look at it saw them. They were the pure meaning of evil. We then took a bunch of photos and went on our way. We climbed higher and higher until the sky got slightly darker almost as if it were telling us that our time was up. We then decided to go back because my sister was moaning about supposed hunger. I honestly do not remember what happened after that since we had returned back to the bottom part of Islamabad. After that, all I remember is the smell of crunchy pastry filled with potatoes with spicy, watered-down yoghurt. By which I meant Samosas of-course. Here my dear wonderful sister started to pester me so now asking her, what she found enjoyable yesterday she simply said, ‘circle’. By which she meant the sweets she ate. And this concludes my marvellous adventure to the Margalla hills.

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