Take a break from your toil

We lived for a time on dust and carrion. Every day, we prayed: for rain, for a breeze, for some real sustenance. We made a hecatomb of our old cellphones and watched the toxic smoke ascend to the floor of heaven, where it dissipated, as though denied entry. One day, we came upon a cow who, at our approach, shuddered and collapsed. When we cut into it, we found it had been boiled alive by the heat and its wanderings. Even the insects that lived in the ground, when we saw them, seemed tired, defeated, done. There was no respite.

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