Sometime ago there once lived a man who resided in a cabin entrenched in the forest. He was a lumberjack, a man known to supply lumber for the small town that he regularly visited. One day, a tourist was passing by this town when he happened to be delivering some lumber. This tourist was a photographer and wanted to spend some time in the forest so he asked the lumberjack to protect him during his adventure in the forest. The lumberjack obliged, but in return the photographer must listen to the lumberjack’s story.
It’s day one and the duo just finished packing for the week long journey through the forest has begun. The photographer sees the untapped beauty of the forest and naturally begins to take pictures of said forest. “I was only a boy when I first visited this place. It was a good time; my dad took me out hunting here on occasion.” The photographer merely listened.
The following day arrives and they reach a lake; again enraptured by the beauty of it all, the photographer ensues with his art. “My father took me here to fish and swim here. Went here about every other week during the spring, twice a week in the summer, and then we wait until next spring to start again.” The photographer merely listened.
Day three was upon them and they followed a river to a waterfall. Ritualistically the photographer begins his craft. “Here is where I met my late wife. My father and I met a fellow lumberjack and his daughter. The rest is history. My father and him became quick friends and likewise, I became enemies with that girl, I called my wife.” The photographer merely listened.
The photographer and lumberjack got an early start on the fourth day and have returned to the waterfall from the previous day; however, they are at the bottom of it now and behind it lied a cave. With caution they entered the cave, careful not to slip. “This used to be a den of cougars until my father and his friend hunted down every one, but one managed to escape the massacre.” The photographer looked deeper into the cave.
By day five they arrive at a rock formation. Going against his instinct, the photographer did not take any pictures, the photographer merely listened to what the lumberjack had to say. “I married her here on this very spot and the rest is history. By this time my father and father-in-law had to move into the small town, leaving the cabin to me. We spent our honey-moon adventuring.”
On the sixth day they arrive at the front porch of the lumberjack’s cabin. Naturally the photographer started taking photos. “It began here: My wife gave birth to twins: a boy and a girl. We were so happy, but one day while the kids were asleep and my wife on the porch, the cougar attacked her. I returned only to see red on the porch and crying in the house…” The photographer merely listened.
By day seven the two returned to the entrance of the forest, observing the city in front of them the lumberjack said, “Next year you should bring your wife and son and your sister. I haven’t seen them in a while.” “Next year, you are coming to my house so you can meet your grandson. He’s been sick, but I think next year will be different.” The photographer replied. “Sure thing, but make sure to visit grandpa before you leave.” The lumberjack commented. The two hugged and departed. The son to the city and the father back to the forest.
