"Invitation" ushers us into the magical world of Artesia. It is the gateway to the forest. There's a percussive crash heralding the arrival of an angelic female vocal, which glides over the banks of synthesiser and violin. There's a sense of renewal. Here the wells are bountiful and you can drink long and deep. You can leave the cold and dark reality of the real world behind for a while. You might have visited this sort of world before, if you've listened to Dead Can Dance's Within The Realm Of A Dying Sun or Arcana's Inner Pale Sun. But there's the rub with travelling, no matter how far you go there are always new things to discover and experience.

If I were still running role-playing games I would be tempted to set a whole campaign in a forest just so I could use this album as a soundtrack. "Chant d'automne" suggests an episode set at night in which our heroes encounter a ghostly circle of standing stones. The pace is languid. The surface of the music is calm, yet who knows what darkness lies beneath? You want the adventurers to believe they have reached a safe haven, but equally you want to reassure them that all is not what it seems and that maybe this place is a gateway to another realm. "Terres Perdues" is what the Middle Ages would have sounded like if they'd had access to synthesisers and recording studios. There's more of an Enya/Clannad feel to this song.

When you wander through a forest your mind can wander too. I have this feeling of being lost as I listen to next couple of songs. "L'appel Des Esprits" has the sound of insects buzzing at the start. "Entrelacs" sounds vaguely medieval, but at less than two minutes it is a mere fragment. "La Maison des Feins" sounds like it could have been on Arcana's Inner Pale Sun, which means endless scenes of snow are conjured. Maybe there is snow in a forest. That works for me.

A cold wind blows during "Valsent Les Ombres". It adds atmosphere over the simple Dead Can Dance-style repeated melody. There is a beautiful sadness. Perhaps it is the changing of the seasons, the knowledge that all things must die to be reborn that informs the melancholy. We must not forget that grieving is part of the healing process, which is why the sadness on offer here is attractive, ultimately it offers release. The violin soars across the top of the emotional landscape, like a raven might soar over a midnight forest.

While the instrumental songs such as "Sous La Lune Dansante" are effective and atmospheric it is through the use of vocal that we get closer to transcendence. "Le Refuge" is a good example. We are transported to a different world. You cannot make out the words but the emotional connection between the singer and the listener is clear. I don't know who coined the phrase 'heavenly voices' but he or she was spot on.

How much enjoyment you get from an album like this depends on how much imagination you have. Having been given the forest as a template my mind is freed to create images. After "L'hiver Est La" starts dark and low, which I imagine as the roots of the trees, we rise and there's the gentle fall of rain. Of course when you are in the realm of imagination you don't need to worry about being cold and wet - which is a distinct advantage over reality. The album ends with the hoot of the owl.

Sometimes life gets too complicated to deal with. You don't know what's up and what's down, what's right and what's wrong, in a very real sense you can't see the wood for the trees. In circumstances such as these the only sensible response is to retreat. If you live near ancient forests, misty mountains or eternal seas then your direction is clear. If you live in the city then you'll have to work harder to re-connect with nature - which will ultimately lead you to re-connecting with your essential self. Bands like Artesia can help the process. Even as I sit at my desk typing this I can imagine the wilderness reclaiming the gadgets of the modern world that surround me. Sometimes you can't go to the forest, but you can bring the forest to you.