Our hike in Penang Hill went on after begging the pardon before squeezing ourselves through two chatting rocks. I never meant to poke into their affair, but had somehow overheard that my family were the only hikers who took up this part of hiking trail.
The trail is actually narrow with grasses overgrown at certain areas, rutted, steep and slippery at the others. We might confront with downhill bikers who were riding down the slopes. That was sure adventurous and fun, but it was a thin but long snake that tangled and hung from tree branches that made our adrenaline rush; it kept calm, we never seemed to be.
We were crazy also to climb the mossy stairs that went parallel with a drain, where the trek occasionally hid from us under thick fallen leaves; we were needed to climb over fallen trees, and to get out from entangled twigs and branches, only to find a bee that had been waiting for me for a morning; it waited for a morning, but needed just a couple of seconds to complete a "say cheese" session.
When zooming in, I saw lines of words in its eye: "Have you used to feeling like the old rubber press: Old, unused, and forgotten?"
"No, I am not as old, but am developing my eccentricities to be as remarkable when getting older."