I have always considered myself a gatherer.
I live life as a pacifist. I scavenge, I find, I collect.
I dream of berries and brambles all gathered into a little wicker basket.
The forest’s canopy draped over me like a warm blanket.
Losing myself in the smell of pine and the mess of greens.
It sounds beautiful.
A gorgeous utopia far from the battlefield.
Where blood can’t splatter back.
Join me why don’t you.
I’ll give you the warmest welcome, I promise.
I’ll find you the prettiest flower in the wood - a melodious yellow.
Yellow has always been my favourite colour.
Isn’t it nice to enjoy the way the world is painted? To look deeply at each stroke of the brush.
We can pick perfect fruit from the trees - apples and pears.
We can make jam!
We can do what we want here.
Our Eden - our home.
Where no serpent can reach us.
I can walk you down to the river, waddling hand in hand through the mud.
We can listen to the water run - crystal clear, pure.
It feels nice doesn’t it.
We could do this forever.
A blissful eternity.
Don’t you want that?
You see, my friend, time is a pretty poison
Why should we waste it tormented?
I can wash the blood off your hands.
You can rest.
You don’t need to hunt here, dear.