Kafkaesque Handwritings: Lost in the lonely forests: 16-year-old Me

I wish there was a tree somewhere in the world where you could pack your luggage, travel, find it, and under it, your dreams would come true. But here the wind blows very strongly. You ask me where your hair is or I thought I heard your voice. Let me reveal to you some secrets of the future. You'll be a stranded canoe on the Seine and I'll continue my quest to find the magic tree.