Again and again I encounter those faces, suddenly looking at me and shouting:
`Hellooo, heeey! Please please turn me into a board in the south faced wall of the treehouse, I was stored between other boards for so long, I wanna see the sun!´

Others mumble:
`What’s up? Did you finally cut a slice off me? You may take it with you, just please leave me in the heated workshop!´

Again others just stare into space with a grin and every now and then they blink, barely visible. But all of them are amazed about what’s becoming of them after their life as a tree. At least that’s what I see when I encounter them.

© Christopher Richter