There is nothing more vibrant and fresh than a forest in spring; the old grey bark and the fresh green of the new shoots, the call of the cuckoo and the sound of the waterfall; the early sunshine filtered by the tree tops tapestry; the drops of dew, the mist, the shrieking call of the pheasants; the deep sound of deer locking horns; however, the forest is just a frame for the path; the path is showing the way; the way walked by wise immortal ancestors; I listen to the messages they left.
Photo: Baile Felix, Romania
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