I erect a fence around my small plot, but why? What is there to take?
Storms come and uproot maple and oak. Will my fence keep out the wind?
I carry nothing and roam, like the other creatures, and we strike a balance. Provision appears and shelter is found.
So small, a bug on a plate, yet still you love me. Why do I not see?
O! Let me walk with the wind.
(Letter #2,149)
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