QUOTE : I silently stare. They silently stare. I see squirms and scorns in a watercolour blanket of grey, black, and mud. They see fun-filled tourists living in these houses. I don't know if they see pain, but I do feel the meanings of our sights are inherently opposing: my sight is pitiful, and their sight is delightful. I feel these eyes do not have memory, but I have memory in all its horrific layers. Can I ever give the bark a piece of my mind? Doesn't nature understand the bark eyes deserve a memory more than I do?<br /><br />---