The forest around my hometown. Soft ground under your feet, a hundred shades of green, leaves rustling in the wind, and paths that go on and on.
Not a single path is the same. Nature has left dozens of markers to let you know exactly where you are, or how to get back.
There’s a pit where a hundred years ago loam was dug. The bottom is flooded now because of the rain, but we used to ride our bikes here. Rush down without braking, so that you have enough speed to get out on the other end where the sand is loose. The local kids could do it.
The forest is full of locations, to me it almost feels like a carefully designed GTA map. 400 years ago, people dug a spring creek here and planted this tree to mark the spot. Both are still here.
Further south, the meadow starts. In summer, these fields are all purple. A flock of sheep walks here somewhere to maintain it.
Even further south, the forest continues.
