Motionless

There’s something insanely spooky about walking through the boreal forests here in the winter. All the hunched over ghosts of snow-covered, stunted spruce trees are motionless rising out of the white sea. And the air is so still. So little wind. It’s quiet. All you can hear is the crunching of the snow under your feet. The crunching is amplified by the quiet and the cold, cold air. A perfect place to get lost in thoughts.