Walking

Throughout the wood, you see small animals and various flora. The smell of moss on rocks and locks. The air is moist, a shower of green herbs and twinkling stars. A bright star peaking through the canopy of origami creating a gobo trance upon the ground.

Waves crash on the bright green algae, smearing light as though with a knife. Speckles on a stickbugs branch, grey like ash. Dew creeps up your nose, tickling. The smell... the smell of life.

The taste of peppermint and and tuber lightly dance on the tongue.

You can hear sticks crackle and crick underfoot during your slow meander. No rush, no worry. Complete comfort and safety.

Walking, by the old house, walking.