Far Away Forest

Leap forward. Over the doubts and buildings and streets in a single bound. Land on the open field and look around. The grass is brown and the roads are dusty. The sky is big and the clouds are puffy. A black bird flies, followed by another. Leaping after them, they twist their feathers and dodge my feat. They flap behind me while the sun warms my face and the wind cools me, soothes me, smooths me. Gravity propels me back to the ground.

I land in a forest, next to a stream. I don't remember feeling the touch of the leaves. I must have missed them, just barely. I look down at a giant green slug slowly moving slower than any eyes can see, but I can see the direction he's headed in the shiny trail of slime leading the way back to the places he has been. Sparkling slime next to a sparkling stream, where the water is rushing, and splashing the rocks, breaking the water into drops, tiny explosions, tiny fireworks, tinier waterworks, shooting sparks carried by the wind, cooled and glowing, barely hitting my face from where I am standing. Stepping closer and over the shiny green slimy, I am surrounded in mist—showered with kisses and cooling hisses. I love it here.

Far away forest.