I begin 2015 with this short story published by Writers Asylum.
"I was on the other side of the grey bridge made of cement, the sand and dust and pebbles adding a grainy quality to it. And from my side of the bridge, I saw how the road sloped downwards with a line of areca nut trees: Crops of green leaves rendered golden here and there, by a touch of the sunrays, sitting atop lanky columns. Up ahead, young banana plants sprouted out of the brown-green land, looking like dwarves against the areca nut trees. And a few paces beyond was just the brown-green land that dropped and fell into the river, Disang Noi. The water reflected the green of the trees, the grey of the bridge, the blue of the sky and the white of the clouds that formed the swirls of a brush on a canvas. On the other side of the river, the land rose again, grey in tone, slanting in posture, before turning into an expanse of greenery that stretched and disappeared into a wall of trees. All I could see from where I stood was the green of trees and the land; and the green rising up to the white clouds in a blue sky that was beginning to splash red and purple.