So clever, whatever, I'm done with these endeavors Alone I'll walk the winding way (here I stay) It's over, no longer, I feel it growing stronger I live to die another day, until I fade away
I love forest in any season in any part of a day, after the rain and before it, when the sun shines and when it's misty.
I went to the forest in the morning, before the rain the air in the forest was heavy and unmoving. It was deadly quite, that even the sounds of branches creaking under my frightened me. It seemed like the forest was dozing and expecting for something.
And after the rain the forest came to life, it filled with sounds and smells: rare bird singing, rustling of leaves. The air was clear like wet crystal and smelt with moist soil, rotten leaves and needles. Rain droplets on spider webs were overflowing beads, rough tree bark covered with deep emerald moss. Muddy pathes with dusty car tracks and knobby roots.
Soon I left the forest, leaving all this beauty behind. My pockets were full of smooth akons, rough pine cones with the smell of forest.
I went to the forest in the morning, before the rain the air in the forest was heavy and unmoving. It was deadly quite, that even the sounds of branches creaking under my frightened me. It seemed like the forest was dozing and expecting for something.
And after the rain the forest came to life, it filled with sounds and smells: rare bird singing, rustling of leaves. The air was clear like wet crystal and smelt with moist soil, rotten leaves and needles. Rain droplets on spider webs were overflowing beads, rough tree bark covered with deep emerald moss. Muddy pathes with dusty car tracks and knobby roots.
Soon I left the forest, leaving all this beauty behind. My pockets were full of smooth akons, rough pine cones with the smell of forest.