![]() ![]() It had had a life of its own that bit by bit asphyxiated all of my life out of me. My depression had grown on me as that vine had conquered the oak it had been a sucking thing that had wrapped itself around me, ugly and more alive than I. The vine had twisted itself so entirely around the scaffolding of tree branches that its leaves seemed from a distance to be the leaves of the tree only up close could you see how few living oak branches were left, and how a few desperate little budding sticks of oak stuck like a row of thumbs up the massive trunk, their leaves continuing to photosynthesize in the ignorant way of mechanical biology.įresh from a major depression in which I had hardly been able to take on board the idea of other people's problems, I empathized with that tree. ![]() It was hard to say where the tree left off and the vine began. In twenty years, a huge vine had attached itself to this confident tree and had nearly smothered it. I returned, not long ago, to a wood in which I had played as a child and saw an oak, a hundred years dignified, in whose shade I used to play with my brother. The birth and death that constitute depression occur at once. ![]()
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