Personal

My Favourite Tree

My favourite tree has been cut down. Every limb: amputated. All that's left are four strong trunks reaching twelve foot towards the sky. No branches to support, casting a long shadow rather than providing a wide shelter.

This tree taught me the beauty of graffiti. Miles from anywhere, its trunks are covered in carvings. Each year I'd come and check that another's been added. The oldest I can find is CLAIRE 1921; this year she's joined by Jack 2003. There's a beauty in these names and notes I'd not seen before: dreams frozen in an instant and tattooed into the bark of a wise old tree. An eternally present past, stretching its arms towards our future.