People who get excited by sunsets, the night sky, thunder, art, the smell of wet mud after rain and deep conversations are my kind of people. The modern world doesn’t excite me. I want trees, the sense and colors, the shifting shadows of the wood. Which speaks a language only a few understand. I sometimes wish I could simply disappear in it. Live like a bird or a fox through the winter, and leave the things I had glimpsed to resolve themselves without me.