I lose myself among the trees.

I am so glad to be with them in their silent, intent passion, and their great lust.

They feed my soul.

But I can understand that Jesus was crucified on a tree.
And I can so well understand the Romans, their terror of the bristling Hercynian wood.

Yet when you look from a height down upon the rolling of the forest--this Black Forest--it is as suave as a rolling, oily sea.