Writing Exercise 1: Rock Creek Park

Trees like giant blades of grass tower high above and repeat across the landscape in all directions, thick, fencing against the street noise, street pollution, light pollution. Stopped, standing still, training my ears to see. Breathing is effortless here. The pure air flows through me. Trying to feel the respiration of the trees. My skin disappears, the thin layer separating me from them, inside from outside, and then my tissues and bones. A body evaporated, now a free-floating thought, a dandelion seed drifting on an imperceptible current amongst the ankles of giants.