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It’s like a jungle between us; a tropical, heated jungle; with struggle strangling the life from our lungs; a jungle; and I am at one end; and you are at the other; and we’re screaming “I’m right here”; and “where are you?”; but within the mazes and masses of soft mosses sprouting orchids, and ferns the size of houses, and vines that could choke and kill God, and tall twisted tree trunks wrapping round and round and round themselves with leaves so big that they block out the rays of the sun; it starts to sound more like “I’m gone”; and “okay” 

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