Night creeps in. Eyes sore and swollen from another night, another story, another reason.
“The same I’ve heard before.” Says the crow.
“What’s the point in it all?” Asks the rabbit?
“Patience?” Asks the snail, as they chew away at the garden while the gardener sleeps and dreams… Not knowing he will wake to everything he’d worked for and desired gone.
The Cat’s Travels 