In open spaces thoughts become abstract. Words drift toward stars and losing contact with sustaining dirt foster illusion. In woods open spaces are small. When thoughts begin to soar skyward, a broken branch snags them and punctures illusion. I think best in woods where limbs restrict the movement of mind. Confined, a person notices the immediate. Ideas do not swell to fill emptiness but instead root and sometimes flower--Sam Pickering, Deprived of unhappiness (Ohio University Press, 1998), page 7.
In open spaces thoughts become abstract. Words drift toward stars and losing contact with sustaining dirt foster illusion. In woods open spaces are small. When thoughts begin to soar skyward, a broken branch snags them and punctures illusion. I think best in woods where limbs restrict the movement of mind. Confined, a person notices the immediate. Ideas do not swell to fill emptiness but instead root and sometimes flower--Sam Pickering, Deprived of unhappiness (Ohio University Press, 1998), page 7.
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