![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh22wpr6oAYxTDK5tbwf3RcKrHgIuhFkvGl-B1vSrGsFjHVuX_bbF_dNr4pt4Whrlo-rGLRmVXig5Tr7LgeTZGwp9ZtGmo-aj1CCDPbWzlTi3dgGsxZjpIXXVh19kkZf5R9S67v/s400/Daphne.jpg)
It feels silly to say, "I've always loved trees," "I've always loved being in the woods," as it seems like well, duh, everyone does - except (strange as it seems to me) NOT everyone does. I spent a high proportion of my life (up to and just past the development of illness) out in the woods. As soon as I was diagnosed with m.s. I realised with a start that I *was* Daphne - I was turning into wood. Wise, those dratted ancients. In my case I was in danger, too, but it was my body not my mind which made the choice to escape. I sometimes think of it as an animal caught in a trap that gnaws its own foot off.
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- 10:37 AM
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