Oh, so when Paris writes a puffy short y anthology about insects having their lives ruined by pest control it’s ‘stark’ and ‘brave’ but I write about trees getting cut down, from the perspective of the trees, and it’s ‘macabre’.
I’ll admit that I was the only one saying those things about Paris’ stories. Everyone else thought their thousands of words spent on the daily life of one ant were sort of dull. But here I thought we were kindred creative spirits.
You all don’t understand: it’s not SUPPOSED to be an attack on the tree removal services of Oakleigh, not at all. If you read between the lines of the tree’s final thoughts as it’s being cut down, its roots being ripped upwards from the ground, its view of the world taking a sudden and traumatic tumble before its life is extinguished forever, you’ll see that they also believe that it is their time.
A dead tree is doomed to sit in one place forever, looking down upon a world full of life with jealousy in its…eyes. Sap? Yep. And trees give us life, so the thought of one wrecking a flowerbed with its roots, or crashing down upon a shed…well, the trees obviously want no part in it. It was their time to be lopped, and through their long lives, they have gained wisdom enough to truly comprehend it. Better than humans, I might add. If all goes well, they’ll be turned into a wonderful family table to be cherished for generations. Either that or paper towel.
Oh, but my stories are ‘off-putting’ and ‘are going to give me nightmares’. Well, I’m so sorry for putting you off your food with a stark look at Armadale’s tree removal industry. It’s not like there was any food left after you’d finished reading; Sheila took good care of that. Perhaps you’ll think from a tree’s perspective next time. Trees can teach us many things about the fragility of life.