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66 Canopy Walk Bridges give, swing underfoot, hold us suspended eighty feet up among towering rainforest treetops. Twelve at once cross—steps shudder— bridge ripples each boot, shifts solid assumptions, our weight no longer where we planted. Over the edge, strangler figs tangle, neverending lawsuits starving out root and branch 67 of one that lifted toward light tiny-rooted epiphyte that took over this host’s life. Now, reaching down, the bountiful fig sinks in, offers shelter, food, its questionable example to all creatures from fern-glade forest floor through each branching story up into canopy, green arc of breath above us. ...

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