Heavy, charcoal-black thunderheads shroud the distant horizon. A soft breeze stirs the oak leaves above your head. Their movement is slow and unceasing yet unpredictable and draws your gaze away from the cumulonimbi. You walk deeper into the forest, you don’t notice that you’ve left the path that brought you here. Your feet feel that instead of bare earth there are now decomposing leaves under the soles of your black leather shoes but your soul is adrift in the wind. You follow the rustling of the leaves. The thunderclouds creep nearer, their bellies rumble with rain and heat and electricity. A mist of scent slowly envelops you, only piercing your consciousness when a fallen tree trunk bars your way and you feel the wet and soft wood under your hands and see the moss and fungi growing on it as you climb over the trunk. For a moment you stand still. The wind has relinquished his hold on your senses and the smell of white and violet blossoms fills your lungs. You look around but you can’t see them, only gnarled trees and lush ferns. You walk on and the mist grows denser and colder. The dark blood in your veins becomes sluggish, your heartbeat slows down. Out of the corner of your eye you see a golden shimmer. Through dark green tangles and over pearl blue rivulets you follow it. Finally you reach the luster. Golden handles grow from the bark of an ancient tree. You step closer and pull on one. Cracks appear in the bark, clouds occult the sun and viscous shadows ooze from the sky, entwine around tree branches and pool on the floor. An irregularly shaped drawer slides out of the tree and sheets of paper pour out. You pick one up and begin to read…