From the surface of the first ravine a perfume of violets seemed to mount, and then fail and disappear. I lay awake, and the night was full of small noises.

The wind among the pines made a sound like the sea not far away; and from time to time I could hear the crack and rustle of some larger beast stirring in the thicket.

A little way off, I could see the embers of my fire still smouldering, and occasionally a thin tongue of flame would leap up and fall again.


It was strange to lie alone in such a vast and silent place. The stars were bright overhead, and the sky was like a great dark canopy studded with diamonds.

I thought of the millions of years this forest had stood here, with its pines reaching up to the sky, and I felt very small and insignificant.

And yet, at the same time, I felt a kind of peace that I had never known before.


The air was cool and clean, and full of the scent of pine needles and damp earth. It was a smell that spoke of solitude and freedom.

I wrapped my blanket more tightly around me and settled down to sleep. The ground was hard beneath me, but I was too tired to mind.


As I drifted off, I thought of the people in cities, living their cramped and hurried lives, never knowing the comfort of a bed of pine needles beneath the open sky.

I felt sorry for them, and grateful for my own good fortune.

This, I thought, is what it means to be truly alive.


When I woke in the morning, the sun was already up, filtering through the branches in long golden shafts.

A bird was singing somewhere nearby, and the world seemed fresh and new.

I stretched my limbs and breathed deeply, and knew that I would remember this night for the rest of my life.