I miss Eastern Canada today.
I wish I could pick wild raspberries and run barefoot through the fields like a confused hippy.
I long for the cold river rocks to form the buttons on my shirt, and the grand fir trees to transform into a collar and hug my neck. My skin will be replaced with wildflowers and the damp forest soil. And a wild fox will follow at a distance.
I belong to this world, and this world belongs to me.