One has to wonder what this young silver birch is thinking? Why would it attempt to grow in the moss on a rock on a stone sitting on the surface of the forest floor? Why would it wrap its roots abound the rock in such an intimate and perhaps despite embrace? How did this moment come to be? Of course you will say the birch cannot be thinking anything, but it certainly has me thinking (and I might disagree at that…being a great respecter of the thought that goes into any kind of existence). Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 at 78mm equivalent. Aperture preferred at f10. Processed in Photomator.