Life without love

A sweet surrendering scent of the moist morning dew that cascades all around the sublime forest. The mixed cool autumn leaves from the tall trees lay scattered on the forest floor; they were in the motion of turning a brittle brown. There was the sound of shattered glass that emphasised the leaves being crunched, as if you were to step on them, pushing their papery remains deep into the brilliant white snow, which lined the ground like a fresh white cotton sheet. The passive and daunting forest has the appeal of a forgotten land, which has been lost in time. The isolated forest remained in a capsule, untouched by the destructive essence of man.

The dark shadows of the voluminous trees and puzzled bushes had become the structure of the forest. The trees stood proud and tall as protectors of the exigent grounds, as the impregnated bushes that had consumed the hard regions of the forest, concealed the land from beneath the vibrant portals of the open sky.

The isolated forest has the appe