#0055. There is a spirit to it that you think has some sort of benevolence. You believe it is greater than you, but part of you all the same. You walk into its realm. You run your toes through wet, soft grass. You bask in sunlight. You breathe deep the air. But do you see what lies in wait? The blood sucking ticks clinging to you, driving fangs into your skin. The sun boils out cancer from your flesh. The air carries invisible agents of disease. You think you are a part of it. You think there is balance to it. But all that the spirit wants is to see you dead.
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