★Airdoodles.

It was exactly a year ago.

On the field of fallen memoirs there rose a sprout of life. A seedling that grew from a seed of the bittersweet fruit of a forgotten tree. A tree of intertwined stems adorned with leaves in a spectrum of colours. A tree of beauty, yet a tree of death.

The glow of the sprout seduced me, captured me. Its scent wafted through my nostrils. Its odour possessing – like an irresistible smokestring of opium. Entrapped in a trance I let it corrupt me. I didn’t move while it grew with haste. That enchanting tree. Growing before my eyes exactly the way I witnessed it grow eras ago. It was deja vu.

On the sixth day she offered me her fruits. But strangely at that time it was sweet. No trace of the bitterness that was. Concealed poison, but I have always been hungry for it.

I realized that sooner, I had to kill this tree before it kills me. “I have to set it ablaze.” I said. But I couldn’t. I intentionally dropped the flint and fuel off my hands. I was ready to die. And just when I was about to slit my throat to water her with my blood, a strange thing occured.

Bizarre.

The tree killed itself.