A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
The air is dewy and ambrosial, corpulent drops embellish the foliage. The reflections catch intermittently in your periphery and you find yourself blinking against the dazzling fusillade. The canopy above is so dense that the sun’s rays don’t even reach the forest floor in a continuous stream. Shadows address the margins, their shapes whimsical. You assign fanciful names to the flowers and trees as you pass, stopping occasionally to stroke a velvety petal or weathered trunk. A cracking branch draws your attention and a great white stag with a peacock tail in various shades of silver and pale blue steps onto the path. It glances unconcernedly in your direction and then leaps gracefully over a fallen tree promptly vanishing into the thicket without so much as a murmur in passage. You are filled with a sense of giddiness and wonder and cannot stifle an awe-struck gasp. Never in recollection have you felt so alive. Your aches and pains, your worries all seem to dissolve in the soporific glow of the glade. The scene before you reflects the imaginings of a child to such a degree that you find yourself searching for confirmation of your sanity. You could easily mistake some of the plants for candies or toys and suddenly you are filled with the desire to giggle and frolic.