I was lounging at the bottom of my tree when I heard about the promotion. Now I watch my nephew's cherubic fists fight imaginary spectres and his sleepy, grey eyes, I feel proud.Maybe hanging on the branches is kinda better than sitting at the bottom of the trunk.
I feel angry and helpless with myself and the world. My arm is in an sling and I cannot get up without help. I am dependent on others and I feel frustrated.
Everything is an uproar. The well-oiled machine has been thrown off by the cog that has stopped working. The machine creaks and compains and bursts out in sporadic fits of anger.
The world is a headless chicken. I don't agree with those in charge and they ask me if I know English. Huh.
The world is old and cold and pretty. Leaves fall off the tall lime trees that line the road. There is nothing more tranquil, more beautiful. I'm at peace.