QUOTE : A wind came up and snatched the roses from my hair, then pulled my hair loose as I ran. I did not care… I was running from my own thoughts as much as anything… I did not want to think about people. I wanted the trees, the scents and colors, the shifting shadows of the wood, which spoke a language I understood…the trees were bending like great fans in the wood. Clouds of gold and red and brown sailed along the wind. I slowed as I reached the privacy of the trees. A woman running across the cornfield in her mother’s best dress is subject to human speculation; in the wood, the trees did not care.