Flaneur

By NickMog

Not out of the woods yet

Running through the trees - branches catching at his arms and legs, briars clawing at his eyes - the forest itself trying to foil his escape. But unable to stop him - he is winning - a surge of elation!

Slowly, unpleasantly, a thought forms. And refuses to go away. He stops, turns, tries to retrace his steps. The branches are thickly interlinked - impenetrable. The forest was not trying to stop him. It was leading him towards a specific destination.

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