When you cross the two bridges where the stream flows from the mountains. Sanding stones, smoothing them. Its water a clear aquamarin. Then you arrive at a forest that I call the forest of the fairies. You can catch sight of the ants that will guide you towards it, awakened by the sunshine. Past the wild blueberries, over gnarly roots, following the gentle call of the leaves.
You walk across soft moss-covered soil, passing old tree trunks. One hand on the rough bark and the gate to the fairy forest opens. A whole world unveils itself, a world you have always read and dreamed of as a child. And now you're here.
At last.
Can you smell the tips of the firs? Do you hear the silent flow of the little stream? Can you feel the magic that lies within this forest?
You sit down, lean against a fir tree, the sun warms your face and you inhale this whole world, with every fiber of your entire being.
