The ant farm
By Marc Buter


Introduction:


Inside the hive all the green leaves from the forest bed are placed before the mighty queen like a woven blanket. The coming months ahead will be dressed in snow and high above the hardened crust the first signs of winter begin to chill the late afternoon air. The curtains were slowly sucked in by the vast dimness from above. I held my breath for what seemed like decades gone by as the light fell upon the empty stage. In the corner of the theatre a draped figure gradually stir the sparkle of our innocent admiration. Trouncing from fear, the truth was well within our reach, simply because there was infinity for all to have and to hold. Not one single ant and all the colonies of the atrocities were excluded from this realm.
Engulfed by the masses, I looked down and without a moment’s hesitation, took hold of the book, in celebration of the past, fell soundless to the moment and began to write without time…