The two were doing a vlog. The composition was too good, the foreground and background set aesthetically. He moved, explaining things. The elephant accompanied them. The dense forest, in the evening, gave chills to the bone. A statue pulled us back to ancient times. We hesitated to leave. It felt safe from all dangers of the forest, high and comfortable. Yet we decided to move on.

We took the north, and it grew darker as we progressed. Then, all of a sudden, a bright sun hit us, revealing the red sand. As we walked, a series of elephants came rushing. We knew it was danger. We took a parallel path, searching for a place to hide, but elephants were everywhere. We ran. A small hut appeared, and we climbed to the top. It was safe, but not for long.

Below, cat families gathered, fighting for scraps, then noticing us as one among them. I scratched them. They scratched me. A mountain lion kept its gaze fixed on me. I scratched him; he frowned. Another pulled him away.

We returned to the village. A marriage ceremony. The bride and groom had trunks — so did the crowd. One trunk was small, crushed with a silver holder in the middle, helping to extend the nose longer. Everyone was happy, smiling. The temple was ancient. The monkeys leapt across rooftops. The groom changed his mind, saying no. They marched to the main stage to reveal this — it was the reception night. It was for a good cause.

The bookshop stood untouched forever. I wanted to keep them alive, or dead.
The noise of the fan hit so hard one could vanish in its rushing force.

Babies are always in the present, without worry. That’s why we like them.
And yet no one wants to be a baby.

They wish to crawl, to cry, to smile, to giggle, to be naked, to be admired, to be curious, to be harmless.
Yet they want none of these — only to be an adult.