A woman helplessly rummages through the remains of others, Searching desperately through the container filled with wasted potential. Her mind screams—scrutinizing the rich and sympathizing with the poor, Sympathizing with her friends, her family. She reaches further down, praying to find a dirty, used piece of cloth. She would be happy to find one. No, not happy—elated. The splitting pain in her head has remained constant, As constant as the reoccurring waves of the ocean. E

Today I whisper tales of arachnids and mankind, of the forestry and of beauty, Beginning with the misery of a spider, who crawls below and above, seeking shelter in every possible direction. The spider, who shrieks upon the sights of the human, and buries himself within the earth. Each morning is reset once more — the same life, the same deafening fear. The drum of our footsteps echo in his mind, beating louder and louder with every passing minute. His desire to live freely