Afterparty
As in a fairytale, birch trees rise up from amongst still, dark ponds. Wound around the trunks and through the foliage, fairy lights illuminate the quiet greens and browns in spots of primary colour. A tipped wine glass lies forgotten. There has been a party, but we are gone, in all our feverish hubris, and nature has returned to a dreaming silence.
A fawn caught in a secret moment, gazes shyly at us as it steps delicately through this magical place. What a privilege, to share our world with such exquisite tenderness, such vulnerability, such peace.