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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