As a child I often walked through the evergreen wood, with trees and rocks and moss and flowers that grew into the sky. I would sit on the stumps of trees, by mole hills and fox holes and birds nests and just think about the beauty of the world. How the sky seems to caress the oozing mud and how the clouds would comfort the sun as they float by, softening its harsh gaze. The world was full of wonder, a wonder only felt in the woods. The city was too harsh, too many sharp lines, edges, holes to fall down, stairs to climb, no smooth hillside or rounded branches just an endless violence that left you tired from fighting. So, when I turned 10 years old I buried my heart in the woods, covered it in dirt and planted a singular daisy on top.

As the years past I soon forgot about my heaven that made the devil of the city scowl in jealousy and mindless fury for, to them, it was inconceivable for one to choose the base of existence over ‘the world of bright lights’. I was blinded by those lights and they made me forget the joy of my childhood.

One day, I returned to the forest, a mother to a 3 year old boy, with picnic basket and blanket in my older, harsher hand. He walked to a shaded patch of land and picked a singular daisy that seemed to grow into the sky. Suddenly, the clouds comforted the sun and the sky caressed the oozing mud and I was at once enlightened. ‘I buried my heart here you know? And I wish I’d never left it.”