A Garden In My Mind

We went there every summer. In the beginning of June, when the cliffs turn hot along the coast, our car veered off the main road onto a dirt track, shuffling over stones and into ditches carved out by the winter rains. The pine trees grow taller, thicker, darker, their packed stems forming walls around the trail. I never got lost in the forest. That happened much later, in cities where loneliness often strikes you in the midst of the rush-hour crowd.

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