In the wild, I feel at home. It always seems untouched, as if no one stepped into nature. Many people stumble along the path, but I dance along the path gracefully, knowing that this space is special. It is amusing to me how this place could always seem perfect all the time. As if it is in a magic bubble and only I can enter. The leaves on the trees always look the same through every season. The trees looked as if no one has ever grabbed a hold of them to maintain their balance after walking down a hill. There are countless numbers of roots, with a fine selection for fate to choose one of them for someone to fall on. Every fallen leaf always in the right spot, with the perfect crunching sound. There is always the stump that seems to have been carved perfectly for my body. There are so many spots of this spot that people ignore, but every detail brings me closer to this magic bubble
in the woods, that I call home.