For those who do not know me still, I'm a scarecrow, and I live in the middle of a cornfield, so vast, that my eyes, which are then two buttons, do not come to snatch the immensity. The tow is the fact they are old, and the edges will rub me the ravens with their beaks, but I do not mind, I supporting the belief that even the peaceful sit here still contemplating it makes sense.
Then one night I was struck by lightning, and went up in flames like a match. The fire did not set it to the corn around me, around me because over the years went digging a hole in the ground in a circle, shallow, a bit 'too much for my desire not to annoy, a little' to the lack of desire of others to benefit from my protection - and yes in my life that I drew a lot of ravens and crows that would have thrown elsewhere, there was me.
If you only knew how strange maize. The more I burn, the more he becomes cold. Come, my fire, to a brightness level such that the corn stops it. If I pretend I did not understand or do not really see it, this scene provides the corn often called We help the scarecrow to go it alone. The corn is also very funny: a plant or two I point out that maybe I should choose other methods of communication. More me list the reasons why there can not be for me, but for other plants, of course, immediately. Other waste time apologizing that they could not own that night, they were all tired, they had other friends, other groups, other more interesting things to me . Other remind me that I had to create me a network of plants, so as to prevent such incidents happen.
Okay, I'm not so old as a scarecrow, I can always start over, and put out the fire. But then, what do you expect? Remember the years that led me to the fire? Think of the mistakes that I made and maize is not it? Rethinking the coldness of the affections of others, to their failure, their deafness? The future is not desirable - is broken right now.
But I would first go to ashes, and stop forever to take away the crows?
