All I see is bricks and mortar so I head to my canopy far away beneath the trees in secret woodland where the odd whisper of smoke can be see trickling between millions of leaves. I am free it’s still called a den by me a retreat out of sight, no TV, a firepit and, hand cut logs. My tin of coffee is bubbling I will have to let it cool down, for I am insane now and I don’t want to be. For I am just me and if you catch me that is all you will observe.