Every year, a lot of trees are felled in the forest where I walk my dog. Strong tough chunks in a high pile, ready to be removed. I was touched by contrast so visible by those large piles of felled tree trunks; trunks with their deep cracks in the rough bark, the soft, colourful, and lively interior. An avenue with living trees that can grow to the sky next to so many piles of dead trunks. Fortunately, many trees remain, so that we can keep on walking in a forest.