Beneath my muddy boots was a carved out gravel path, lined with concrete-colored rocks with bright, dewy moss clinging to their surfaces as verdigris clings to a copper coin. Patches of fresh, virescent plants and deep, emerald pine contrasted perfectly with the sandy shade of the March grasses blanketing most of the land. As I inhaled, clean, spring air filled my city-stained lungs, and my lips hung frozen in an awestruck gasp. Never in my life had I seen such a sight of pure, natural beauty.

Where I grew up, forests only sat next to cacophonous highways, and splendor was found only in tall buildings and flashing lights. My bodies of water were either dyed the artificial color of lapis lazuli or coated with thick, sickly hued algae; here, a tranquil lake sat shining in the dented earth, simply mirroring the clean, cloudy shade of the windy sky. My soot-dark hair went wild in the constant, cool breeze, and I beamed brighter than I had in as long as I could remember. Even the air felt alive in this place.

It was truly a view meant for a queen.