She goes down to the oak tree where the last edge of waters’ way meets the brown of the soil. The spot is deep in the forest, off the beaten path of where her cabin lies. That spot is the only area in the forest where isolation meets movement. And that was exactly what she needed from time to time. Movement.
The cabin stands five miles within the trees of solitude. The trees locate themselves to be of without development or change. They reflect onto her life; no development or change. She just lives in the cabin. The cabin that lies in the forest.
That is all she brings to her life. She is the only movement in the forest for miles. Her energy brings a draft between the ground line of the trees. The 200 foot trees bring an awareness of desolation to her. Sounds are echoed and bounced from tree to tree. Well when there is a sound. There is no life for miles apart. Thoughts are the only sounds she can hear. Thoughts are her imitation of sound that kill her. Thoughts are the movement form of sound in the forest. Not being used too much movement surrounding her makes her susceptible to movement not of her own. Her thoughts are the type of movements that kill her. Being in a forest filled with emptiness gets to her. Being the only soul for miles affects the way she thinks and acts. Creativity becomes its strongest.
She goes down to the oak tree by where the last edge of waters’ way meets the brown of the soil. That’s where movement not of her own is met. The movement of the water brings a light to her that is usually unseen otherwise. She wonders why such a form of nature can bring so much energy to someone who just lives a life in a cabin alone. Maybe it is the sound that is not of her own that heals her emptiness inside to some point. Maybe it is the texture of the water that she is not used to on her dry hands. Why does she need such movement? Who may know. But it is down by the oak tree where the last edge of waters’ way meets the brown of the soil that is the most quiet place of peace for her.