What do we say when there is nothing clear to say?
When according to your standards, you want to shout: "mush!"
The tree was covered in dark spindly bark. It was surrounded by small bushes with crisp green waxy leaves. This region of the forest had long been considered problematic. It was in fact just a restful region surrounded by stone walls rather by accident. Nothing really that special, just a confluence of hard to categorize, misty and perhaps obscure lives, corners and the usual uncertainty.
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