I like to travel roads forgotten.
Gravel crunching and savage greenery deep.
There is lack of noise beneath leaves.
The road winds upon the hill like a coiled dormant snake under no sun.
Thoughts become louder every step of the way, muddy footprints in the labyrinth.
Water trickles, warm fog sticks on your coat.
Sometimes, while I walk a new street I stop and watch.
I try and imagine how would be to live there opposed to the city, the best apartment money could give.
I choose silence and difficulty.
My answer sure lacks logic to you.
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