The air is so warm, I can taste the freshness of spring on the breeze. There is joy here. And serenity. I don’t know where I am, but right now, it doesn’t matter. All I know is that this is a place where I’m safe. In fact, it might be my favorite place in the world. Inhaling deeply, I take a second to savor the feeling of contentment that surrounds me. Having allowed myself a moment, I bring my focus back to my surroundings, to see where I actually am. I find myself standing in a small grove. The twisting branches and billowing leaves of tall trees nearly block the blue sky. But these are no ordinary trees. The branches of each one reach toward those of another, intertwining like they’re holding hands. At first I think the limbs must be very thick, but as I look closer, I notice that what I took to be heavy branches are actually several small ones, each about the width of my finger, weaving together into intricate braids of brown and gray. Sitting atop them is an array of hardcover books, with gilt lettering down their spines.
