Riley Simon Block
A whimsical warmth ebbs through the woods; he lies, comforted, amongst
its volume. Gentle winds scratch the branches, causing them to sway and
dance in a protective bed. He is at peace. Though the blue of the sky
contrasts the wood, the brightness of the world unifies his spirit. He is lulled
by the mothering sounds of nature, alive and thriving, though still dreamlike.
Even as a strange voice interrupts his serenity, begging a question,
'who are you,' he doesn't flinch.
He blinks and responds as best he can.
"Forest." It's his name, and as far as he
knows, it always has been. He is forest,
But there is no one present to
Just white walls.
~ Inspired by Wrights Triangle, by Richard Serra