There is a tree that rests in naturalistic splendour behind our building on the hill. Its roots circumvent limestone rocks to wrap like loving arms around the slope of the earth and create a cradle of its bosom.

It has been My Tree ever since I laid eyes on it one afternoon exploring nature (as is my wont). It is a comfortable tree, with roots well worn by age, and more than once I have imagined fairies living and playing among its branches and vines and roots. And it is a pretty tree, allowing me to sit in silence and feel connected to the universe in a quiet, meditative sort of way.

The security guard at our building says it is a cotton tree, the kind that gets frequented by duppies (Patois for ghosts or spirits), and he was teasing me about always spending time out there.

I wondered – the connection I felt with the tree, could it have to do with the spirits that are said to live there? Or are my imagined connections just the consequence of an idle mind?