There aren’t enough trees in the world to make me feel less strange. We slept under them every night, saw the sun glow red then pink then orange through them. Tracked the shadows and the color of the light through them. Here they are fewer, sparse, displayed. A tree is such a common thing when there are so many. There was no fear of them running out, we looked and all we saw was the expanse, trees like the ones on tiny models of hills and valleys. My body wants to be back in the shade, the rain dripping, the sap, the smell. My body aches for it the way we ache for love: the simplicity of a life made underneath the leaves. The walking and running and carrying you have to do to be somewhere with so many trees. We were enveloped, we were safe, we were the carriers and the carried. And I will wish for a very long time to return.