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Stream of Conciousness in the Yungas

I remember walking past a tree and seeing an arm- forever formed at an angle, skin folding, reaching for the sun. Where would we be without the sun, where would we be without the rain? A hole in the ground, a dreamless sleep. Do trees dream? When there are days of endless clouds do they dream of sun? Whn the ground is dry do they dream of rain? And where would we be without the trees- to keep us from the howling wind, to shade us from the scorching sun, to have a place to call our home. Our home is alive, the earth is alive, vitalized by death, eaten by the worms, gives birth to green ground, flowers, trees, and us.