The trees along the slope down were clawing at the granite hill, tipping over and reaching out for dear life. They are frozen stories to me, and I am too tired to shoot them all, but I hope to sketch them..as I see them.
I saw an old grey woman with hip length hair, wrapped around her fallen and pleading body. Her mouth screamed as she slid down the stream-streaked mountain, past three other stoic fallen friends, who lay asleep, without a fight.
I saw two trees entangled and holding on to each other with half their limbs and dramatically pulling away with the others. They are mismatched trees in appearance, and one looks as if it is sucking life from the other; dark brown and virile, while the other is a gorgeous caramel with black spots and aged edges. They were a tragic romance and magnetically in love.
I saw a young sequoia, fat and perky with long white fingers creepily stretching out from its belly.
Iguanas on their backs squealing.
Giant tarantulas climbing the rocks with rotten limbs and eaten faces.
I see, I see, I see.
