Do you know what is love? Do I know? Anyone in this great world can ease my soul and give me my most desired answer? These were the questions of an adolescent girl at about 17 trying to solve the Riddle. These were my questions. I supposed I wasn't the only one to look for this answer. And of course, I was right. But to my greatest stupour, the majority were stopping on the way, too tired or bored to go on, leaning on the first tree at the crossroad, embracing it and calling it "my love".
I tried that myself... I turned my arms protectively around the cold rough bark, felt its coolness with my cheek, tried to reduce the space between it and me pressing my face harder against it, so that my skin waved between chunks of wood, and I called... called with the thirst of the animal in the desert... for the warm stream so longed for... For moments I thought I felt something. A drum beat coming from the heart of the tree, moving my breast with its cadence. Apeased, I almost believed I was relieved from my burdain... that I had found my house and I could finally stop walking. Stop searching. Soon fatigue vanished and a small sprout of happiness envelopped my brain protectively.
I don't even know when I realized the drum beat was long gone. I was shivering from the cold draughts of wind insinuating under my blouse, up my neck and ravaging strands of hair... Then suddenly I felt easier, in spite of the cold and the roughness, and I realized. The drum beat was in fact my own, heart pumping excited blood in my limbs... The tree was unmoved, cold, and quiet... as always.
So I decided to walk forward, always accompanied by my friend, the howling wind.

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