He is the face peering through the leaves, a vegetative spirit whose breath is the scent of crushed mint and whose blood is the rising sap of springtime. He is the mascot of the ecological consciousness, the one who reminds us that humanity is but a single branch on the great tree of life. If you sit still enough, can you hear his voice in the rustle of the oak? He is the eternal renewal of the wild, the green force that will eventually reclaim every stone city and turn it back into a garden of emerald silence.

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