He dreamt of long, relaxed nights, of sleeping all day. He dreamt of creating beauty. He dreamt of green forests and waterfalls. He dreamt of being free.
There was nothing but desert. Rocks and sand as long as his eyes could see. Hard work all day. Burning sun. Dry air.
He jumped up on the tank driller once again, drove up the hill to destroy the homes of little creatures, make wounds in the face of his world.
Doing his part to make the wheel go round, to keep the destruction going. It didn’t make sense at all, but there was nothing else he could do. The machinery. It was all they had left.
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