Visiting one of the tiniest countries in Europe, GaiMiTn or something. It’s an unusual place for people to take a vacation as there’s not much there, but I’m content — resolved that it will be special for me. I roll downhill along a suburban road, houses on one side. The border is a few streets away. It feels novel, knowing so few have been here. When I traipse through some mud, I know most people will never have the dirt of this country on their skin. I envision a brief walkthrough of a primeval European forest, foliage I’ve never been near before, but which strikes me as immediately familiar, archetypal. The plants my ancestors survived by knowing well.
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