I have gotten up, but I feel that the ground is calling me.
What a strange place! I will take the first step.
The breeze, which I thought did not exist, has reappeared; but I have already moved on.
One, two, three steps; When I look back I feel nostalgic, have I lost something?
If I don't have answers, it's better to keep walking.
My desire to look back appears again, but my instincts tell me to move forward, I should not look back.
But why shouldn't I look? Is there something? Wasn't I alone? What is the reason for this anxiety?
I look at the trees in front, I look up, the same stillness as always. If everything stays the same? What's behind?
Dozens of steps become hundreds, hundreds become miles, why does everything stay the same?
I don't think I've walked in circles, because I still haven't looked back; and the previous anxiety turned into fear.
Fear? Yes, fear. I'm alert, I feel threatened, but I don't know if it's just my imagination or I'm really in danger.
It doesn't matter, these trees have been my only company for so many steps.
Steps and more steps. When will it end? I'm not wearing shoes, just my bare feet. How much have I fertilized the roots of the trees with the blood of my steps?
What am I? Who am I? What am I doing here? Where do my knowledge and ideas come from?
Forest, answer me even once.
The breeze blows, the direction is clear, it comes from behind my back.
Is it a breeze or is it a breath?
What does it matter! I'll just walk a little more.