The Woods Dreams Are Made Of

There are days when you had enough of the city, where our eyes no longer bear to see only the buildings and our ears hear only the engines ... So we remember the life, and one thinks of the Woods and the path of the sidewalk and we go here we go! The sounds of the city far away... we're in a meadow. This is the countryside, the forest, childhood coming back. We believe in it, you're there. It's a real illusion, a wild world at hand, a place for all, rich and poor, French and foreign, gay and straight, young and old, old-fashioned or trendy . Paradise found? Who knows?