These forests are silent sentinels guarding over vast mysterious life. Why have no real predators been discovered in this cold climate? I wonder about cold adapted species that hide in our warm bundles of fresh laundry when it's raining. It's hopeless probably.
Swim upstream at the speed of the fastest deep water current. I feel the momentum carry me toward foreign shores. Of course, it is that is foreign. The shores are there now. Self confident that they know what they are. Tourists have exclaimed their ancient names long enough now that is engrained into its memory, the landscapes rattle with each mispronounced word they can hear, amidst the cacophony of waves pummeling volcanic sand and traveling salesmen trying to smuggle sand dollars across the ocean to the forbidden island of the chain.
