fresh supply of rotten fruits.

drowning. she's drowning.

funny, the water's below the knee.

burning. she's burning.

funny, campfire doesn't even have enough amber to roast mallows.

falling. she's falling.

funny, she's lying at her back, flat on the floor.

funny how everything she feels just isn't real.

that have got to make it easier, she thought.

funny it doesn't.

real or not it hurts all the same.

what is real?

what is the truth? who knows?

some say it's real when we can see it, feel it, hear it, smell it or even taste it.

when you're able to do all this ... then you know it exists. whatever it is.

but what if it does to you. only you.

what if you can see, hear, taste, feel something and no one else can?

does that make it any less real?

they say truth conforms with the facts.

then where do we get the facts?

if it's true to you and everybody else thinks otherwise ...

does that make it a lie?

what if you did something you thought was noble, but then all the world says it's a crime? ...

will you be sentenced to death?

should you be hanged, beheaded or burned alive?

how can you be different when everybody else is trying to be different ... wont it make you all the same?

in a world where everything seems to be scarce.

funny how life never fail to deliver a fresh supply of irony.