And again on this soil: everything looks different, yet something inside me tells i was here before. I hear some distant clicks and a rattle, like nutshells hitting each other, and a strange voice...no, it cannot be, there's no one around.
Something is pushing my feet around: i gather some basic stuff before the night hits me, so i can at least eat something, my belly is empty. Some berries, fruits from trees, a few grubs. There's a river, and i feel like i hear a call, i must find more water. I do not even know who i am, almost, and yet i crave for sea already, the idea of getting to a beach makes his way in my brain like a worm into an apple.
I find a body. A dessiccated husk of a beign like me, someone even took his skull, maybe as a trophy, and my spine shivers for an instant; nearby there's a dilapidated leanto, with a mummified man sleeping there, covered in cobwebs, like if he's there since ages. He built that canoe there, he won't need it for sure, so i'll take it, then i'll cover my body with some rummaged bark and strings: a shirt, a pair of "pants" and a hat made with spruce boughs tied togheter: damn, they're ugly, better to add a few embellishments to them, at least they'll be of inspiration in the wild. I've brought the canoe to the river, and now i'm rowing down it, determined to find salt water.
A few hours later i'm on the ocean shores, and suddenly i find a spot that tells me i've already found home.
There's a small river and lake nearby, but what i find better is that the shore have rocks where lots of lobsters and crabs dwells. Decision is already taken: this will be my, at least, momentarily home. A mound going underground is giving me some shelter while the spring rain pours down, and i gather boughs, wood and strings to build at least a hut...after a few hours of hard work, it's there: nothing fancy, i do not want to put too much work here if i have to move.
Then a table, a makeshift seat, and a fishing pole.
Some more hours and finally my crave was sated: i was finally fishing in sea water, and eating a nice fillet of fish, sitting on a beach, in front of a red sunset.
My old, wrinkled hands give me some pain, but they feel like they're happy, for now.
