And trees that were nearly like trees the way I remembered trees: tall and slender as saplings, but somehow, they didn’t look like saplings. They had dark silver trunks and bright leaves the color I imagined the ocean to be, and where the sun shone right down on them, they glittered like blue jewels. But the trunks, lovely as they were, had a strangely temporary air about them, as though traveling troupes had propped them up for a village performance. As though they could be taken down at midnight, fast, for the next town. I’d never have thought that about trees once.
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