It sits there, 25 feet above the ground.

The Elder Shroom.

It has been there since the earth cooled. The tree on which it seems to rest grew into it.

To see it is to behold the universe from the outside. To touch it is to feel the tingle of the pin on which the world turns. To taste it is to die, but also to transcrend.

  • Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!
Advertisements