Marc's Jungle Story: The Junglebox and a feeling of freedom

I walk through the jungle. Freely and lightly. Dense greenery surrounds me, opening and closing as I pass through. I feel alive, enjoying the pleasure of moving through all the sounds filling the air. They are familiar to me—the calls of gibbons, the buzzing and humming. The air is heavy, filled with moisture penetrating every pore, entangling itself in my hair. Leaves clap against my face, but it doesn't bother me; on the contrary, it awakens me. I feel that I am alive. 

I leap onto a small rock and look around: there, in the distance, the waterfall is already visible. I discovered it yesterday while I was on the move. Water cascades from over ten meters high into a small lake. I'm almost there. A red snake hangs from a branch, but I remain calm. I know it won't harm me. I appreciate this calmness, the absence of fear. Why can't it always be like this? But would it be as good if it were always like this? With a jump, I descend from the cool stone into the bushes. The dampness of the ground feels good, step by step. A large butterfly flutters past me, momentarily passing through the sunlight sparkling through the dense greenery. You can see it through the wings. I am by the water, slowly lowering my gaze: My black fur shimmers. The eyes of a panther look at me. They say: You've never been as happy as you are now!