I had always been a fearful child - jumping scared at a clap of thunder; at the blurry vision of a kitchen rat scrambling the floors of our fallen-apart flat; at the sound of an adult’s angry breathing, familiar with the threat that it brings – all usual things you might consider. However, there were other things I could not understand: like the bark of a tree, its scratchy texture spread across that towering gait. I was afraid of leaves and plants and onion bulbs so moist from heat they had begun to sprout tendrils. I was also afraid of the moon and stars and clouds - unable to look up at the sky without thinking (with undignified certainty) that these galactic presences could see me – that the moon was descending in startling speed to crush me to dust. And so, by the time I arrived my early teens, I did not understand why anyone would be fascinated with nature. I had been so completely subdued by the large and outside world that I simply concluded that whatever was non-human could not be trusted.
This writing thingy is Tochi.
Thank you for sharing this gift.
Beautifully written as usual, thanks for sharing.