>>6060728The eyes of the tree were dark and swollen, as if it had cried a death more tragic and far more painful than his own. In a disdainful whisper, as the lumberjack put his hand over his bark, tied in the tongue from the lack of words to speak, the tree spoke in his place.
—What do you want.. animal?
The memories of the murdered trunk were just barely heareable in the uncleaned ears of the vast man. What did he want to know? how could the miserable trunk guess? in the silence of the rock hut, the purpouseless lumberjack begged the mind to infer the correct thoughts, to speak the correct question, to exclaim the true prose. And the tongue, seduced by attraction from the long forgotten act of speaking, pondered on the words about to be spoken.
Tip: Speak. Ask what you will, else rot, rot amongs the maggots who havent dried in this damned land!
Said the consient mind, impatient of the lumberjacks shyness.
