Aesthetically pleasing spiderwebs
Dogs fitting perfectly into each dorway
Books over Books over Books over Books
being dead wood covered by dead wood inside of dead Wood

surrounded by stone
it´s what I call home

Fleeing feeling of savety but still somehow comforting
Hooks for our clothes and jackets (that can never move)
Socks appearing and disapperaing suddenly and out of nowhere
Magnetically linked toys

I sat on the edge of the rivers mouth, watching the sun set slowly behind the eyes of forever
There in the dusk a pack of coyotes approached me, they asked of my somber state
I said my sorrow was with morality, the thoughts of my death and the dismay of human suffering
One of the coyotes scarred with deep wounds from years of survival, approached me closer
He said I have been from the moutains edge of Appalachia, to the rivers of Savannah
Life is a fragile and cruel thing, our kind knows of the suffering of existing day to day
Life isn't a waterfall, it is the blink at which you do at the waters cascading down
Death is the pool which the water collects, all living things end up there
You must not ponder why, only ponder what to do next
For it will be gone human, as all things go
I merely looked and nodded a heavy sigh
The pack nodded back in unity, and carried on
And I looked back at the sun, disapperaing in the forever
So I took my heavy legs to a step, and walked from the mouth
To the limbs of Oconee, and walked to my place of rest
To ponder my next

My companions left Remus Primoid— disapperaing like vultures into a Sub-Saharan vista of the night— and travelled back to Earth, missing the the life they had once lived. I, however, had no friends or family to sustain my sentimentality and decided to stay upon Remus Primoid, within the village of Tok-Tuu, hoping to create a life for myself, in possession of the desire to become a true Tok-Tuuian.

In my fifth year as a villager of Tok-Tuu I was permitted to learn oblong mutterings: sacred chants created by the pre-eminent founder, Oblong Jenkins-Kennedy, who uttered these chants under his breath as he carved the ancient structures of Tok-Tuu, as well as the hidden statue of Tei Romuloid, the mother of all life on Remus Primoid, a statue hidden within the depths of the ancient tombs, situated deep within the catacombs of Tok-Tuu.

The mutterings were as follows:

"Oblongboidoid, Tok-Tuu, Tok-Tuu. Boid, boid. Bashin-gore— I sustain my left foot. Boid, boid. Tok-Tuu, Tok-Tuu. Helmonstap-hablefoot, caress carefully."

Upon my learning of the sacred mutterings, I was initiated into The Society of Sculptors. Such joy I felt, in this, my fifth year, to finally be accepted, truly, among the people of Tok-Tuu!