Ezekiel
The cottage in the far distance surrounded by the blanket of the forest always reminded me of the landscape of Kommos. Being in the city could often make me forget that just thirty minutes out of it we were surrounded by such dense greenery that it felt like you were in the middle of nowhere.
I guessed this was where someone would come if they wanted to be forgotten.
The cottage had not changed in the last six months. Since I was a child I only suspected the thing that had ever changed was the man who lived inside it. The woods always looked the same. The neatly trimmed hedges around it spoke volumes of the man who groomed them.
Not a leaf out of place or a centimetre too long.
A part of me regretted coming here. If I thought I was having a foul day I knew it was about to get a lot worse but he was the only person to help me. The only person who could try to understand the situation I was in.
