House in the trees

My floor is dusty once again. I don’t know how the dirt can make its way up the ladder. I’ll sweep that up a bit later. Right now, the sun is shining in through the wooden window and I want to embrace and meditate on the moment.

Okay, I’m done.

This broom is working wonders considering that it was hand-made. A couple years ago, I would never have believed it, but those hands that made this broom, are mine. I have to learn these types of skills if I’m to survive. Actually, broom making 101 is not a required course if you are to survive out here in the wild, but hunting is.

I still haven’t mastered that skill yet. Last night, I went without food because my trembling hands sent shivers through out the jungle which scared away the meaty boar. Maybe one day, I’ll become a heartless hunter without hesitation, but for now I’ll stick to fishing.

I find it easy to take the life of a fish, but killing warm-blooded animals makes me feel guilty and nervous. Maybe, boars and caribous have souls or maybe I had them as pets in a past life.

It doesn’t really matter; I’m just wasting valuable brain energy. Well, my mind does need a workout; I haven’t a read a book in ages. It’s too late to think about that. I’m done sweeping and now it’s time to spear myself a fishy breakfast.

© Copyright by Kurihi Chargualaf