On Sunday we went to the forest and climbed up a ridge

The path is wild, riddled with moss and marsh and seemingly dry, thin pine trees, their leaves only on the top parts, closer to the light. The sun’s minimal here, clearly.

But the moss and grass and ferns are a universe of their own.

Like walking on satin.

The higher we climbed, the more the moss gave way to blueberries.

We were walking on blueberries. We snacked on them, marveled at them, laughingly thought we’re fruit pickers now, and oh, how many euros we would have earned per hour.

Blueberries upon blueberries upon blueberries.


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