The forest was
waking up. Spring had come, and wildflowers vied for a spot in the
sunlight with the new spruces of bush and tree. They had to be fast,
because in only a few weeks, abundant foliage will cover the ground
in shadows. But of course, I wasn't here for the flowers. Somehow, I
never am.
There was treasure
in the ground in these parts, or so they said. Looking through the
mush of dead leaves and decomposing wood, pushing aside the
undergrowth with inconsiderate force, I kept on searching for the gold.
Not real gold of
course. I was looking for the metaphorical kind. Which, not being
subject to market fluctuations, always seemed the safer investment to
me.
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