I am trapped, so unlike the days before the helplessness of modern society, where I was the one who fed my people, where I was free to roam the wilds, dreaming, discovering, thinking, all the while buzzing with joyful energy. But no more, my people to whom I was the providence, they have made their own system, their own food, and left me in the dirt to be alone with my dreams, which shall slowly be forgotten. I am the hunter, the outcast, the dreamer, the creator. I am alive, how could they forget?! But they keep their system, forgetting the old ways from which it was born. I sit at an office and dream of the world, how little I’ve seen, how much I have yet to see, and I die. Not from the world, but those who were once my friends, and how they left us hunters. Alone. Abandoned.


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