An unexpected trail branched from my path, it's sides were lined with wildflowers. I followed the advice of my company, and veered off into the scenery. The scenery then enraptured me. I know not where this path leads, or what lies around the switchback. The forest is thick, the scent of leaves and fallen rain mute whatever dangers lurk in the underbrush. I wandered a week, truly unsound of direction, landmark, or destination. The scent of rose petals, crushed under toe, mingle with the wistfulness in my head. I wander on, though now the fear that the path may end creeps into my thoughts. I want to wander, to experience this for as long as possible. Something in me knows it may very well end, and the destination could be just as grand, but I would almost rather dawdle such that it cannot.
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