‘‘What I miss most,’’ he eventually continued, ‘‘is somewhere between quiet and solitude. What I miss most is stillness.’’ He said he’d watched for years as a shelf mushroom grew on the trunk of a Douglas fir in his camp. I’d noticed the mushroom when I visited—it was enormous—and he asked me with evident concern if anyone had knocked it down. I assured him it was still there. In the height of summer, he said, he’d sometimes sneak down to the lake at night. ‘‘I’d stretch out in the water, float on my back, and look at the stars.’’
— GQ