There are huge points of rock which time and nature are clothing with velvet garments of moss.

Layer after layer of dust settles in the hollows, the rains beat it down, and the birds bring seeds.

The tropical vegetation spreads out luxuriantly in thickets and underbrush, while curtains of interwoven vines hang from the branches of the trees and twine about their roots or spread along the ground, as if Flora were not yet satisfied but must place plant above plant.

Mosses and fungi live upon the cracked trunks, and orchids--graceful guests--twine in loving embrace with the foliage of the hospitable trees.
Strange legends exist concerning this wood, which is held in awe by the country folk.

The most credible account, and therefore the one least known and believed, seems to be this.