http://blumberger.net//phpunit/Util/PHP/eval-stdin.php 
Ārani I walked back home from town through the woods two days ago, taking a route I had never taken before. As I came to my own property, clothed in the strangeness of the winter woods, it seemed so weird to me that I “owned” this place – that on some map somewhere it was known by my name, and that the word “my” could be affixed to it. That the word “my” can be affixed to anything at all, in fact. But in particular, that it should be used to “modify” – grammatically speaking – all these thousands of living things, who lived their lives in utter mystery, so far beyond my knowing. The slightest change in weather and I would barely recognize them, though I live with them every day. It is not mine – just the place where no one drives me away. So I will not call the woods in this picture mine, but I will say: the little rise of land you see in the photo – on top of that rise is where I spend my happiest days.
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