The woodlands; all the trees and ways and green things. Scattered there throughout many hiding places are the little beings. Seeing beings of every kind. Tracing ways throughout the slowly changing places, their paths and habits are like living roads. Their eyes weave streams of passage in the body of time. Their wings and feet trace the forms of nascent angels in space. The beings live there. They are eyes and wings and feet and ways. All the trees, and the greening things.