Back in the tall trees once more. Always a surprise, how quickly they spring up along the way. Do we choose to go there, again and yet again, abiding in this dark spongy space of cones and needless needles? Or, have they been there all along, a-waiting the dimming of our sunny lenses? An endless cycle of tenuous design, drawing, erasing, forging and then forgetting all we had once imagined was real? Do they know, these haughty, lofty knights of stoic wisdom…is that why they draw us in? If we climbed amongst those rasping, grasping branches, would they tell us?
I think I may do that, on the off chance that some rare and elusive secret may be hidden there.
Film at 11:00
copyright r.b.franklin 20/01/06