Treeboard

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601 >>0 Early in the morning a man looks down from a mountain he never remembers climbing.
602 >>601 The man sees nothing but fog. The fog, his hill, and the morning sun. As the fog disintegrates in the sun, the man glimpses the tops of a few trees.
603 >>602 After letting the fog recede further, the man surveys what he can see. He finds paths leading down in each cardinal direction along with a Tombstone marked "0".
644 >>603 The man decides to dig up the land that lays in front of the Tombstone. His nails chip. The sun is overhead. The hole reaches his calf. He rests beneath a tree.
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