I currently live in a farmhouse surrounded by forest. Once a week I go down to the village, about eight kilometers away, to do the shopping. I always end up chatting with the butcher at the supermarket, and lately, I had been noticing her absence. One day I ended up running into her on the street; I approached her to say hello:
“Hey! Are you on vacation?”
“No, I'm on sick leave” she replied.
“Did you get sick again?” Last month she had bronchitis.
“I had a anxiety attack.”
“Oh, then it'd be good for you to come to my house. A walk in the woods would do you good.”
Without getting into the topic, but knowing the obvious causes of anxiety, distress, restlessness, and confusion in people nowadays, I mentioned to her that, among other quirks, I don't use a smartphone.
“Yeah, you are a forest person,” answered she.
She lives in the same town, which nowadays, in terms of population density, traffic, air, noise, and light pollution, have little to envy compared to central cities. The children (she has two) are raised confined within four walls, and I don't know how it is today in Argentina, but the children here (even my wife, who is my age, experienced this system as a child) practically spend the whole day, even having lunch, in those orphanages they call schools.
It'd have led to nothing to explain to her that I didn't leave the city because I'm a ‘forest person,’ but seeking nature, tranquility, and privacy—basic and fundamental requirements for health. It's not hard to see this. People tend to reduce everything to a matter of taste. It's useful for justifying themselves, they know they could improve, but they also know they don't have the will to do so.
©2025 - Walter Alejandro Iglesias