Tree
It was the fading dawn of a late summer's day. Through the cold, clean air the full moon illuminated a lonesome oak amidst a greenfield of tall grass and mountain flowers. A fierce thuderstorm was rampaging in the greater vicinity, yet the hillside meadow lay unaffected short of the occasional raindrops whipped over by the capricious mountain winds. I could feel the cool and humid air fill my burned and scarred lungs with every deep breath, soothing the weary and aching flesh. Neither did I know where exactl I was, nor how I got here, but it mattered not in that instant. My thoughts, so raving and untamable at times, now had a serene flow to them. After what seemed like an eternity, or an instant (time seemed to pass in a peculiar, nonlinear fashion) I finally rose to my feet. From the flat hill I found myself staning on, one could see the vale stretching and winding and finally disappearing in the distance. At its centre and creeping up the surrounding highlands I could discern the pulsating flashes and complex geometries of what must have been a bigger city. From up here almost nothing was left of its confusing and threatening nature. What seemed chaotic and arbitrary from the inside now painted a complex, yet comprehensible pattern of flows and causalities. Not really knowing where or to what end, I left the sanctuary of the aged oak tree and started to ascend along the ridge. With the wet grass brushing against my bare legs, I walked into the unknown gloom. Slowly, step by step I began to search my thought river for notes and snippets about what I was made up from, both externally and beneath the surface. What would normally be a process of remembrance proved to be more of an investigatory undertaking. Gradually the complete picture began to emerge. Everything was there, the impenetrable, weathered walls, the biting fumes and raging flames, the expansive machinery which they powered, and the delimited, yet still tightly embedded analytics cluster. A more stark contrast between that imagery and the situation at hand was not conceivable. That was both, the past and the future. The present alone offered an external perspective.