21

Lost in a maze of
some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for
all eternity. We can never pierce its infinite mystery—we may
only wander, awed and spellbound, on the outer fringe of it.
The woods call to us with a hundred voices.
A timeless far-flung
spirit in a nest
of dreams

When I was working on these pages, way back a few years ago....this spread quickly became one of my favorites. I don't know if it was just the green of the page or what. Now when I look at the book complete, there are so many favorites to pick from.