Concert in the Forest
Dress wet, drenched by steadily increasing summer rain, Greybeard takes a few minutes rest in a hunters booth, only a couple of meters away from the country road but already completely covered by bushes and trees. The raindrops beat a continous staccato on the leaves and soil, birds still try to drawn it with their songs. His shoulders feel cold under the wet jacket, moscitos have immediately spotted his sweat‘s fragrance. Resting here he feels free, he can spend his time listening to the sound of the forest during rain or he can move on if the moscitos will become too annoying, it doesn’t matter.
He has taken back owership of his time.
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