Today, when walking through Central Park with my friend, Alice, we saw a beautiful grove of trees near the Bethesda Fountain at 72nd Street.
This tree in particular drew my attention. It seemed to have its own story.
I love the lines of trees, the shadows, the lights and darks, and especially the way they trigger my imagination.
Trees are magical. They are individuals. They are community. They are homes. They are inspiring.
How many stories can you think of where characters live in, under, or on trees?
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