For the man walking alone in the crude sun or the foggy winter mist, the one whose feet devour the track relentlessly. Steady rhythm, focused eyes and peaceful breath, I envy you. You move as you live with elegance and simplicity. You move as you invent and craft, without prejudice in the purest way.

I have visited you while you had dreams few lives back, we joined our visions while captive in one world as the other offered freedom.

We have flipped through the many pages of the book-tree. Its biblical bark peeling off in countless curving edges. Not many can read it even if it is offered to all. You did in your own way and showed me tricks I could never have guessed. I wanted so much to learn!

The book burned and with it so much more than a tree.

Let the summer blazing sun and the cool winter snow combine their power to bring a life strong enough to say farewell to the layered trunk that used to cast its shade to shelter us.

Loss is eternal its scars as well. Whether it is the loss of someone or simply a feeling.

But loss never cease a story.

In the old rusty dust below your feet the road expends towards new curves and hills as a countryside slowly appears from the fog. It is offering something different, something only you can see.