It's a simple memory, nothing complex, nothing unusual, and nothing important. With every breath the hot dusty air pierces your lungs. The sun beats down on you, testing your strength that prevents you from running towards an air conditioned room. The cool wind never comes fast enough. Only enough to hear the rustling of dry leaves on a bush as they brush together. With each step the dust kicks up behind you leaving a delicate footprint as a marker of where you were. You see a tree, just one. You might be expecting a luscious green tree with branches extending to the furthest corners they can reach; instead you see a skeleton. A black, scorched, frame, a memory of the beautiful tree it once was. Keep walking, through the same dusty path and the same dried shrubs. When you reach the top, you see a sea of scorched black trees swimming in the valley; still dry, except now there is something new. Look out into the sea and look between the scorched skeletons. Small trees emerge from the earth, the green radiates from the black trees that surround them. This is only one memory, in a collection. To most this isn’t the most magnificent sight, but walking along the the the flat road back clouded in the shade of the glistening aspen trees, you know there is nothing ordinary about this place. Like I said, it’s nothing complex, just a simple moment.