As a child in rural Ohio, I’d explore deeply forested areas and sometimes suddenly come to a clearing. Stumbling on a defined, open space among the thickness of the trees and undergrowth felt like something magical; a naturally formed room with a soaring, leafy ceiling.
I was walking near the Recoleta cemetery in Buenos Aires and saw this grove of rubber trees (a type of ficus) and was hit with that same feeling of magic, in an urban setting worlds away from rural Ohio.
