Nothing like a forest, no. Still many trees outside the house. Despite of the aggressive real-estate policy, despite of the menacing community of telephonic poles. Many trees around the house. It takes quite a while for it to grow, you get easily depressed thinking of how quickly the chainsaw wipes away a century of tranquillity, as a clumsy move can suddenly spill your drink. Fantasized carved hearts on the trunk testifies to the gentle and na�ve love of yet to be grown-ups. Secret hideaways, minimalist castles made of two bent planks hanging their as under some feeble spell. A squirrel goes by in front of the window, and the bulldozer passes. Seldom they think about their cousins in the city. Fatal exhibitions of how it should be, homeopathic doses of paradise surrounded by fences and synthetic architecture of secluded playgrounds. It�s not like you have to fight for them though. Post-industrialism and careful plans, enter the sideshow freaks: �We must harmonize this. Bring in the workers.� Harmonize what you will. But rest assured they won�t give up. They�re waiting for something.