In the quiet heart of the forest, seven trees dressed in black stand, mourning at a silent gathering. The air is heavy with absence where one tree once reached toward the sky, now cut down, its place marked by a cross. The trees seem to lean closer, as if sharing memory and grief, it’s raining. Human hands have shaped this loss, but here, under the canopy, the forest holds its own ritual - a funeral where nature becomes its own witness and mourner.