First comes the wretched stench of smoke
. It's surrounds me in a thick blanket of suffocating darkness making me want to kneel over and choke, to try and force cool, fresh air into my lungs, but that doesn't happen. My head is bent down, the muscle in my neck is aching', my eyes trained on the green and healthy boys of grass beneath my feet. My feet: Bbare, pale, and pure, just like the grass. I can move my feet a bit, I realize, and quickly take advantage of it, my toes sinking into the soft feeling of nature beneath me, the plush dirt. It may be gross to others, to like the feeling of your toes in the cool soft mud but I relish in it, because I know that soon it'll all be gone, it feels a little moist.