the finest time of the year, when the air is so transparent, and the gaze meets all those colours, and there is the freedom of putting down the burden of summer, and feeling light, like the cranes, and the geese, and all those little nameless birds that move overhead, through the night sky calling out […]

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is dark in its green, stretching, stabbing the air handsomely; a sway and a breath, a flutter, bird-feet stuttering in wait for the snow. the bark a little scaly, climbing, higher, higher, till the bellies of clouds are scratched invisibly, playing right into the gates of stars. carefully leaning, the smell of resin, all freshening, […]

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to stand barefoot next to a tree, and extend a hand and grow into the grass and soil beneath, and reach up, out, towards the sun. or the cloudy sky, or the darkness of night, starlit, moonlit, otherwise. to hear the grass grow. to commune with the birds in the branches, as they seek refuge, […]

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