A picture I took last time I was in the woods. I'm not sure what this mushroom is called. As you can see, it stands amidst fallen wet leaves; a carpet of brown and yellow tainted colors. Walking on this carpet is soft and crunchy. The sound of a twig breaking under your feet sharpens your attention as your walk slowly, putting your feet here, there, very intentionally and every footstep becomes so ever important. There are no demands in the woods. No pressure. There is only complete undefiled freedom. You turn as you tilt your head back and gaze up on the leafless trees that point towards the overcast sky, so grey so fine; and you listen to the drizzle and the sweet tweet of the small birds. And there is no place on earth you love more than this. No place you would rather be, than standing on a carpet of glistening leaves of many colors below a ceiling of perfect greyness feeling the chillness in your cheeks and the sound of sweet tweets coming from ever changing directions.