They call it the deep woods.
It's where they build forts and hang swings.
Where one day they will go to play spin the bottle, or try their hands at other mischievous things.
But the truth is, it isn't so far, that bit of no-man's-land, with the sluggish stream and the fallen trees.
And it feels closer still in the grey winter, when the leaves cannot hide them.
But distance is only one way to travel far.
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