Entering the forest sounds become more distant. Shadows blanket you, and the fractured light draws your eyes lower. Surprised by beetles, salamanders, snakes and toads, you notice the roots and rocks – things unearthed. A persistent buzz of insects, of fertilization, and the verdant smell of rot and raw earth are subtle, rather than overwhelming. The green around you becomes a mirror… reflecting dimly thoughts heavy as red wine, musk, or blood. Through the canopy, you wonder what color the sky is.

After hours toiling up a singular hill blue breaks through the branches – a promise and reward.

At the summit everything falls away – you are an empty vessel, intoxicated by the light and the cascading horizons before you, drunk as the mischievous birds diving in clear air. Everything swims all around you – expanding endlessly just beyond your fingers, your hands extended, grasping at something or nothing.

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