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Their branches intermingling to catalyse a canopy of leaves that winnows fluorescence and casts a dappled shade upon the woodland ground. The very zephyr is corpulent with the dulcet fragrance of wildflowers, and the gentle hum of bustling honey bees can be heeded as they flit from bloom to bloom. Spritely fairies dart through the coppices, their iridescent wings casting shimmering rainbows ayond the mossy terra firma. Liliputian bushland creatures, scurry about their consortium, while majestic deer and regal foxes step with a certain grace, seemingly imbued with a kind of otherworldly wisdom. The trees themselves seem to muttering quandaries to one another, and the gentle trickle of near-at-hand streams bequeaths as a soothing serenade. Hither, one can misfile themselves in the tranquil splendour of nature, and forget about predicaments and alleges of the estranged luminary. It is a vicinity that oppugns those with open hearts and keen minds, palsy-walsy pop in and scrutinise its cloaked wonders, and to lose themselves in the pulchritude of its mystique. ༉‧₊˚✧