“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.”
Some kind of Birch tree in the 15th arrondisement in Paris. I spent two and a half years living in France’s capital city; I was certain that the ratio of trees and green space to built environment was less in comparison to my native leafy South London but apparently, Paris is the most densely wooded city in Europe. Either way, trees such as this gleaming Birch are noticeable to my camera, squeezed inbetween slabs of concrete, standing alone but strong against urbanity.