How I go to the wood.

“How I go to the wood.                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable. I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the cat birds or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of praying, as you no doubt have yours. Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.”

~ Mary Oliver

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Street life.

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Chalkwell to Southend.