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Smells; The wet thick smells of exhaling plants, the sweet-rot smell of flowers, the dry dust smell of the rain

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The non-euclidean geomotry of the living world, the absolute lack of right angles, planes or straight edges

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The buzzing, bustling, alive feeling of a million questing, feeding, living minds and non-minds

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The strange purity and distillation of thought to the most primary concerns: When will I eat next, and when will I rest?

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The strange primal fear of it: Being more scared of a quiet moonlit night than of the worst neighborhood in the city. Knowing that a simple plant like poison oak can kick your ass.