Me and my friend decided to go for a walk in the woods. As we neared the trees we studied the darkness that fell beneath them. We walked onwards, into the darkness, slowing our pace to a comfortable stroll. When we were completely hidden in shadows from those who still existed in the light outside of the trees, we brought some of our own light into the darkness. It sparked, and then there was glowing red.
As my friend and I continued to walk, I began to look around. The tree to my right had a face. I looked at him. You are in my woods. I could see the wind rustling the leaves of all the trees, yet it seemed to me that this one was rustling on its own. "Is it okay for me to be here?" I said this out loud. My friend glanced at me, but he was not paying that much attention to my utterances.
That is fine, my child, these are your woods too. I didn't understand. How could these woods, the trees, the moss, the leaves on the ground and the smell of flowering plants in the air be my woods too? Surely a tree, permanently rooted to a spot amongst the woods would have more claim to the land than one who is only a visitor. "These are my woods?"
"This is a park dude. This is public property, not yours." My friend responded to my question meant for the faced tree in front of me. The tree swayed his approval of my friends response.
"Public property. These are my woods."
My friend laughed, "Dude. You are so high."