I love the cracked bark of old trees, it almost looks like there is another tree inside trying to burst forth. I love the texture and colors of a tree that first sprang from the earth long before I was born and will likely be around long after I’m gone. And I love how when you look closer you see the tiny spider webs and the delicate lichen and realize there are little worlds existing within this small section of this giant tree, which is just one tree in a large forest circling a massive volcano, and you feel lucky to just be standing there, a part of one little story next to a tree that could tell thousands.
Boolie 