The leaves blinded me, no sooner had I brushed one from my face when another slapped me across the eyes spraying droplets of water from its surface into my hair and down my chin. I felt like I was entangled in curtains, blundering forwards in the gloom to free myself from the grasp of their folds. In the dense undergrowth of the forest I struggled from one snare to the next. Each step was a monumental effort.
I was in a maze of life itself. I could hear the constant buzz in my ears of unseen but not unfelt insects. Often I detected a rustling in the vegetation as larger creatures sensed my presence and moved quickly away. The birds made strange calls far above, punctuating the insectile white noise with an experimental melody. I am sure that even the bacteria were more numerous here, every point in space and time filled with respiring, reproducing organisms. And green, green all around.
Then suddenly the curtains parted. I had finally reach the edge of the forest. I saw the treeline heading to the horizon straight as a ruler on the left and the right of me. There was nothing natural about the boundary; it had been made, cut by an unknown agency. In front of me was a huge field of grass, carefully mown. And in the distance across that flat artificial plane appeared the peaks and troughs of a city skyline. It called to me as if to say ‘Everything you have been seeking can be found in here’. But I knew that could not possibly be the case.