 | | 27/02/2015 22:42
Sur le blog Amy Nelson
where the coyotes howl
It was morning when we packed our winter clothes and headed for the woods. A friend held the keys to a cabin outside of the city and invitations were sent our way to join him. I've always known that forest light and conversations beside a bonfire were an integral part of living happily. There is something to be said about the way goosebumps live on your skin and boredom departs when it's just you and the woods. I always return home to a newly foraged life, I make my bed less hurriedly and eat my apples without wishing they were pomegranates. In the forest, poems come easier, stars are closer to the iris, clocks are forgotten and the smell of pine is...
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