may i go away?
may i leave this tower of babel and its constant barrage of noise?
may i go back to that quiet summer's morning spent exploring a small pond, looking for tadpoles, smelling the earthy scent of the shelf fungi on the rotting stump at the water's edge?
where the hum of the insects was the only sound.
the world was only as big as what i could touch.
the madness was then unknowable to a five year old.
if i go away, i will not come back.
i cannot go away.