We are in the valley between two mountainscoated in blue,like sheep’s wool.It is suffocatingly beautiful,and exhilarating at the same time.

A river runs by us.White stream-water moves quickly, unreservedlydown the wooded granite peaktowards the river,as if filled with the joy of being home.

The road we took was far too filled with carsfor any bird to call these woods their home.We were alonewith the sky and trees,with the mountains and river.