065/365 10/25/2025

The very first thing I remember is a club. The smooth warmth of the wood in my hand. The hefty swing of it. I’m crouched low in grasses tall as my eyes and sneaking slowly towards a great brown beast. I can hear its breathing. The long rumble of an in and out. Looking now, I can see it must have been terrified. Mystified. It ran and ran and ran as best it could, but I still came. My brothers and I still came across the plains. Standing monkeys who could walk and walk and walk and walk. Ever coming. Never tired. And now we would feast. Now we would eat for months. I remember my hand gripped the club. I remember the weight of it as I crept through the tall grasses.