We walk past trees everyday, sometimes amazed by their singular beauty, sometimes astounded by their wonderous clumpiness. However, urban life seems to be constantly in a battle with the existence of trees. For some they instil a calmness a retreat from the manmade landscape in which we and they inhabit. For others, they are just a nuisance, Lindens oozing their fragrant nectar onto the spotless car. The Linden which brings back fond memories of the tree lined avenues on the banks of the Rhine in Cologne; heady aroma on a balmy summer's night.
I walked under this tree many times in leaf and without leaf, and now it is no longer there. I remember my action of walking, I remember the contrasts of the days that I have walked the path. Sadly I don't remember this tree as an individual attentively standing, lining my route with its compatriot trees, that together had naturally formed their own arbour. It was important but no longer so, its wooden heart comprised of rings that tells its age which reinforces its existence, I don't remember you, sorry, but I know you were saliently standing there.