The deep world

I can still smell the sea, but it’s incongruous here, in the green twilight. Or maybe not – I could imagine myself under the sea here, drifting through the twisted roots of a kelp bed, the light filtering down through fathoms of green water. The arching ferns would be the fronds of some delicate creature, combing the water for food; the pillowy moss, beds of sponges inhabited by shy brown fish. 
The path descends, the trees grow taller, and I feel more and more that I am diving deep into another world, close to our own, close enough to touch, but as separate as the far side of the mirror. My neck prickles, but I keep going. 


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