As I journeyed over the last few days across the diverse landscapes of Argentina, from Mendoza to Bariloche, I was enveloped by the vastness of ever-changing terrains, a complexity that seems to elude the grasp of the mind—deserts, steppes, rocky expanses, lands cloaked with trees, and the imposing Andes of Patagonia.

This morning, I found myself deep in the forest, absorbing its vital essence. There, I stumbled upon a secluded spot, encircled by peculiar fences, which led me to wonder… who would cordon off such a place? A strong intuition whispered that I was at the edge of a privately owned woodland. I chose to follow the fence line, and as I walked, my thoughts embarked on a reflective journey. The dream of living in the forest—alone, self-reliant, and undisturbed except by the company of trees—has always appealed to me. Yet, could I pursue this dream without claiming the forest as my own through fences? Such a notion felt excessively possessive… too possessive and greedy… the desire to have this fragment of the forest solely to myself seemed like a disservice to my ideal of heaven on earth.

This contemplation awakened a deep-seated belief within me: the forest ought to be a sanctuary for everyone, humans and animals alike—open, free, and safe to dissolve into its enchanting embrace. Something within me transformed; I realized I didn’t need to possess the forest to experience its fullness and sense of belonging. The forest’s essence, freely given, calls for reciprocity—not in possession, but in reverence and stewardship. In this shift of consciousness, I discovered a kinship with the wild—a homecoming not to a place, but to a truth.

The sign at the forest’s edge, ‘la bosque es la vida’, now echoed as a philosophical axiom—the forest, indeed, is life, not to be owned, but to be honored.

And what lay beyond the fence’s end? It was but a threshold into another’s claim of earth—a reminder that while we may steward parcels of land, the true essence of the forest remains unowned, eternally free.