Friendship . . .
“I’m thinking that sitting with you in a cozily upholstered hollowed-out sycamore tree, with a view of the river, nibbling on nuts ‘n berries, dark chocolate, smoked salmon and cheese, just being together, talking – whatever, in the midst of nature sounds like birdcalls, chattering squirrels, and water babbling over rocks, sounds attractive to me.
I imagine the inside of the tree trunk sort-of pinkish and padded, with yellow and white stripped down-filled comforters and pillows . . . a long-healed wound forming the arched opening to the view of sunlight dancing and sparkling on the water a short distance away.” J.D.C.
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