I want to tell you the story of a boy - who woke up with the stars in his eyes and for legs stones, and for arms, the largest beech tree bows. He was faint from being human and so in his dreams called to his ancestors for renewal.

He found himself anchored to one spot. The stone grew lichen - his arms had the birds nest in them and all the while his starry eyed gaze gave magic to all the land that he sat upon. There was now no difference between dreamtime and waking - the calls of the earth were heard by the boy and he sent messages down his roots - to the tendrils - to the electrified nodes and networks across the land. He found he had tree family across the vast interior ground - entities he could speak chemically with - hold a sort of long distance dialogue.

And he felt. Oh how he felt everything. The smallest ant crawling up his bark - and the gentle rustle of the breeze from high up the mountains - he could smell what was going on through the charged scent. Everything had meaning, everything was saying something - and the boy wondered whether he’d ever go back to being a human boy again. His heart was human, but was it?

He had become that which he had come from - and there was no denying that he felt more like himself than he had ever before.