Timothy Wood17 June 2019
You, this forgotten shadow, / That rests in a flowering memory / Is the kiss of root and berry.
The room could sense something different about this body. Different, but not unfamiliar. It could feel the body’s heartbeat echoing through the soles of their feet, casting shockwaves up the walls.
Your first casual sex experience. The back of a car. Classy. You never liked random hook ups in clubs and you’re frankly bemused by the whole experience. Sex had always been an intimate act; not anymore. The second time is better, you like him, you date a few weeks, you’re replaced. It gets easier each time.
The word ‘wilderness’ conjures images of towering trees, forest paths, bubbling brooks and open skies. There are no buildings, no signs of human habitation, and there is a stillness or silence punctuated only by the wind, birdsong or animals scampering over leaf litter. This form of wilderness is linked to a longing for a life that is more in touch with the natural world. At the same time, this wilderness, in its emphasis on pristine, untouched nature, excludes human beings. How can we exist in wilderness if our very presence alters it and makes it less wild?
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