At night, lying awake and afraid, I would rise from the sweat of my single bed and cross carpet to curtain, eyeing out warily through the low of night, and see the beech striding firm from the density of earth, her skin silver in the bare moonlight, brave against the boundless dark, shimmering its bravery to me as if to say her roots were ours - twined together in the plunge of soil.

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Image created using a 6-hole pinhole camera.