September 25, 2000: Change

Fall in the Carolinas plays havoc on the forest I step within. The damage a stream of water can do makes me feel helpless within the congregation of trees seemingly much older than me. I often feel my footsteps have killed with should be living—to attain any reason I must study everything that takes place. It’s not the power I wish to grab. It’s the actual essence of incredible peace I assume lives there. My pen stops—the word assume attacks me then spits me out. Maybe there isn’t peace within this forest.

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