Andrew Myrick The Trees

Walking amongst the trees, I get the feeling that something important was interrupted.

That same feeling you get when you ask a group conversing a question.

They stop and look at you as if they just found out you existed.

I didn’t mean to interrupt, believe me, I just wanted to see what a decade long conversation might sound like.

Perhaps the oak had been waiting seven seasons to tell the pine a wonderful joke

Only for me to come along. The Trees Andrew Myrick