Slice of the World

[image from underaglassbell.deviantart.com]
I am lying under a tree on a mountaintop, among jagged grey rocks and dry, frayed grass.
Looking up, I can see the gnarled and twisted branches of the tree, which is covered in clusters of white-grey leaves. There is a string of a thin spider web. Is it a work in progress or an abandoned but once grand ruin?
Around me are the outlines of scattered rocks and strange tufts of grass sticking out from odd crevices.
Behind me is a boulder, a strange chipped rectangular block. On top of it is propped a small battery-powered radio, with its soft music playing gently.
The sky is, in comparison, a very bright blue colour. Clouds are scattered like the rocks on the mountain are.
I look at my surroundings for a while, then close my eyes. The fresh smell of the somehow sunburnt air fills my nostrils as I breathe in. All I can hear is the crackling song of the radio, a little buzz in the background, and the occasional chirps of a bird nearby.
This is my little slice of the world.