Dena holds your hands and embraces you. Blowing over the peaks, her breath refreshes you flowing down the rivers, her tears wash away your weariness; you forget all your grief in her arms and kissing her, you taste happiness, the very essence of life; struggling with uphill paths, you learn from her about the hardships of life; her robust stature reminds you of the power of goodness. She is seventy million years old, to which your lifetime is next to nothing; and the very moment you meet her, you can’t stop thinking, “Dena is the Promised Land, Dena is me”.