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forestbathing

forestbather

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On The Mountain

 

 

High up on the mountains, sound is no longer secondhand. Choices are simpler than on a main street: up or down. And yet the choices are more thrilling than choosing the latest fashionable shirt off one of the multitude of hangers in one of the multitude of shops lining the street; up bad, too late in the day to go on and you will freeze to death, down good as you'll stay alive and be drinking a tea in your tent by nightfall.

 

the wind

makes its own melody

up the mountain

over the rocks and snow

through the branches of trees