You look at his hands

Cumbria, woodland. June 22

When I first see him coming through the woods, I think he’s a paratrooper. Camouflage flak jacket and trousers and a purple beanie. I keep looking at his hands. The power is still down in town he says and they don’t want to fix it.

Why not? The Agenda. He says they don’t want people living in the country, they want to clear it. They only want us in the cities, he says. He says he doesn’t believe in the pandemic, it’s all part of The Agenda. And what is The Agenda? He smiles I’m a crazy conspiracy theorist he says. There are 10 people who own the world and they want the rest of us off it. 

Look at his hands again, they have green stains as if he’s dragged them thru grass. I wonder if he is living in the woods, but he is closer to clean. Shoes, polished today.

We’ve allowed the super-rich to get away with things for too long he said, and now we can’t go back. I can speak to you here because we are away from the machines.

He smiles I’m a crazy conspiracy theorist he says again.

Owl, by Maria