easy essay on hills
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A hill is a slope of land which is not in level with the ground, it is raised above the ground, hence a hill....
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It was hard to realize that I've been here all these years-twenty-five summers, winters and Himalayan springs. When I look back to the time of my first coming here, it does seem like yesterday.
That probably sums it all up. Time passes and yet it doesn't pass, people come and go, the mountains remain Mountains are permanent things. They are stubborn, they refuse to move. You can blast holes out of them for their mineral wealth, strip them of their trees and foliage, or dam their streams and divert their currents. You can make tunnels and roads and bridges; but no matter how hard you try, humans cannot actually get rid of the mountains. That's what I like about them; they are here to stay.
I like to think that I've become a part of the mountains and that by living here for so long I am able to claim a relationship with the trees, wild flowers and even the rocks that are an integral part of it. Yesterday at twilight, I put out my hand and touched the bark of an old tree, and as I tumed, its leaves brushed against my face as if to acknowledge me.
One day, I thought, if we trouble these great creatures too much, and hack away at them and destroy them, they will simply uproot themselves and march away, far from the haunts of man. I have seen many forests and green places dwindle and disappear. Now there is an outcry. It is suddenly fashionable to be an environmentalist. That's all right. Perhaps, it is not too late to save the little that is left.
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