I had run from the forest so long,
I crossed the street not to speak to it.
At times a madness came over me and I dove into it, hacking my way in, only to become tangled, wrapped in its vines, til my struggling against it would eject me back onto the road.
It has kept me me up so many nights, with long calls of mysterious creatures. What are they doing?
For a while I tried to burn it, inhaling it's ash, hoping to get it inside of me, marking myself with it like a warrior, like a boy playing war.
And then one day it had grown up around me, and in general I was no longer afraid.
The forest is not home yet, but it is becoming my friend.
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