There is this forest somewhere, you think you saw it a dream once. The air is fragrant and a little damp, it smells like green grass, wet soil and also a bit sweet, like a garden of roses in the early morning. There are no trees, just some ferns and small grass and myriads of colourful mushrooms, as big as cathedrals. With no birds or bugs in sight the silence is so deep you can hear the grass grow and the mushrooms sing: “We are the daughters of the rain and father Earth’s our home – our roots are deep, our bodies strong.”