The number of old trees is dwindling, and that worries me. Couldn't we achieve with trees what we have achieved with whales or elephants? Achieve their protection through empathy? To do this, we need to get to know them better, to immerse ourselves in their lives in order to understand them better. And that is why I have realized a project that I have been dreaming of for a long time: the autobiography of a beech tree, told by the tree itself. Trees can't speak, let alone write, but if you can read them, you can still decipher their story. That's what I did with an old beech tree that stands behind our forester's lodge in a protected forest. I have become its ghostwriter, so to speak, telling its story like a novel. But because everything happened as it did and is also scientifically underpinned chapter by chapter in the back, it's still a non-fiction book. Or is it not? It's an experiment: join me in the world of trees and find out that a life spent 200 years in the same place can be as exciting as a thriller!