The forest behind my house is a short walk past rows of unremarkable houses. The streets are a gateway to their source materials. Lumber and rock and earth arranged logically but haphazardly. Powerful tree trunks push through massive impassive stones - a decades-long tension. The guts of huge trees are exposed, uprooted but still majestic even in their impotence. A lattice of branches reads the light coming through like a musician interpreting a score. Within only a few minutes, the town and its features melt away receding into the background like a half-remembered dream. This world is somehow more tangible, more real.