It was here I came to think, at least, it was a few years ago when some things made sense. My beautiful refuge was a place only I knew about, well I suppose Dylan knew about it, but only because I showed him. Beside a small stream by my home was a little cluster of trees we knew as the forest. These trees formed an overhanging canopy that hid my little perch of a tree stump from view of the bridge that crossed the stream. Summer was my favourite time of year to sit out, there I could see the light shine green through the trees.
I would take my sketch pad and a few pens with me and I would draw for hours. Sometimes Dylan, my simple friend, would sit in silence with me, watching over me more than anything. He was the same age as me, but acted like half. Still, he was one of us.
I thought back.