I had chicken for dinner: the whole roast and everything. There was no way I was staying for dessert. How did you get here? Leaving granns dinner unfinished is one of my specialities. She doesn't mind. I have been in and out of this house for millennia, it seems. Her getting mad at me isn't even a possibility anymore. Plus, bloating like that seems no fun. I'm enjoying the garden; you're escaping to it. I don't have a secret; it doesn't bother me to impress auntie. You think your granny will die from a broken heart from her grandson not eating her food.

You feel bad for her and not in a good way. She lost her son, your father, and now you want to make it up to her. It's pointless. He died a hero; you're going to die of indigestion. Don't make any sense. Well, damn me. I am bringing up your father like this. I had no right. No, right at all. I wasn't there at the end, that is true. I don't. Know how he died, I don't understand how auntie reacted like, and I don't see the kind of burden you have been under ever since. It was a strategy, but human life that took place that day, human nature made it into a curse. Come on. Come back. I didn't mean it.

Any of it. I ate aunties food. Of course, I did. with uncle Fren looking across from the table with his commander gaze. The neatly packed mugs and dishes and glass dove figures all neatly lined up made it seem like I was sitting in the commanders' office, and we were chatting over as his wife broke the immersion with how lacking her mannerisms are. Bless his heart. He acts so firmly when I come over. And don't go bringing up the camera again. I didn't bring it. I'm not going to be making a video out of this. Please don't assume that it is my fault. I have work to do, and my work encompasses art. If I cant capture it, it will have gone to waste. I'm not going to get into it with you. I had to clear my head after things got weird after your father and his brother came up. I mean, what they had was.

Extraordinary, definitely for their time. Two brothers of exalted status. I don't know how the whole story goes, but I believe one was a champion and the other bound to a chair. Wasn't it that trope of the muscle and the brains right? in real life? But they differed in that regard. I am muscle. I am a brain. That could be trapping a character and especially a person significantly when the roles were reversed. I remember the picture I had of them in my mind. The only thing that I can remember about them was when I was at the right place at the right time. It was right after the war. Brother 1 returned to brother two, and brother one was balling his eyes out. He was on his knees, his hands crushing his brothers' legs, and his head touched his toes. Brother 2 didn't react much, brother 2 tilted the head back, and his jaw was working on breaking his teeth. I remember your father hated the way he was useless. Well, that thought comes from all the relatives gossiping about how brother one would be off better if he didn't have brother 2 to protect. So whenever I saw brother 2 in pain, I would assume it was because of his useless stature compared to his brother in the act of war. Brother 1 never left his back to his brother, however. His army was defeated and the last ones standing were the two brothers. However, I don't understand why brother two wanted to fight so much. he was chairbound. The brain is the only thing left at this point. I don't understand your father, and I don't understand you. The brothers' relationship has always been something I have wanted to explore, my proverbial skeletons in the closet, the one exciting thing about our family that I am not privy to. I understand respect. Your father was strong in will, but the world was at a time of war. Fat needed to be cut. Your father should have stayed as the head of the family and brought everyone together as survivability as a whole is more likely than fractured. His heroic tale is that final fight. The words exchanged, the emotions laid bare. I want to jump into all of that and capture it, yes, for the sake of art. This is not. I concede that that video would be great. The shots the lighting the angels and the way one explanation is cut to photos and the build-up to the climax would be worth seeing. But it isn't only that, your family, my family has gone through so much, we have survived into the new world, the better world. And I feel like I am the only one living in it. Granny and uncle are living off the habits and schedules of their days. They are no longer living, just biding time till death. They are holding on for dear life, not to live. There is so much I want to do here, but the atmosphere, your world, is suffocating. I cannot help. I cannot even finish desert. It was a mistake coming here, and I don't know how way dinners I can be invited to before the last. What do you expect me to do. At this point, what is the reason for my visits? I'd have a more productive time talking to your graves.

What do you want? I said it over and over again. I brought no cameras, and my intention to film is zilch. Roofus is probably tired from running around after dinner, so ill bother him for a bit. The days over, my visit is done. Nothing is going to come out of this. You can trust me. I don't promise anymore. I ask for your trust.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I was hoping you wouldn't make this a part of me, Don't make this about me. You've changed. Change back, please. is there special hypnotism running in the family that I am not a part of. Could you not bring up that I'm a girl? What does that have to do with anything? These are my life choices. I wanted to go down this route. I come from a well off family. Why should I gruel away and not take the advantages presented to me? It wasn't up to me. The cards that were dealt with me had nothing to do with my own life. In the significant picture ways, you understand what I was getting at and just not seeing it. Back away. I don't feel comfortable. I said I didn't bring any cameras with me. Do you want me to strip? My family history is yours too. Auntie must have told you a thousand times every time I come over to visit. I bet when she tells you all about my family history and how to treat me. Fairly and humanly, I presume.

I can't be expected to be treated like a celebrity everywhere I go. I don't think you get that. Everyone stares are wanting from me, and it is hard to shift through. But I get my fair share of people who are vaguely interested in me and not the history. And on the slim chance, they are crazed, well, I deal with that on the low. But what auntie has refused to tell you is this... Why did you bring this up anyway? What's your goal. Make me feel bad so that I can join the zombie club. I want to talk to you, I want to help you, but I cant. Not if you take sides. I can't be the only one trying to help. Pappa and mamma were there for me so I could be there for you. Standing together, we are tall. But if it satisfies you that I spill the beans and talk about it the same way I spoke about your folks will make US square, then I am willing.

It didn't go as I expected—the lavish life of an average person. I can't blame my parents or anyone else. I mean, I try to, and the blame doesn't add up. I would have been here most of the time. I did want to be like the movie stars when I grew up. Me and all the other people in my neighbourhood. A cinema had opened up in town, and they had a special promotional event. All the big names and their crew had rolled up in heaps of busses and lorries to carry around their equipment. Their life was so much different from ours. Their energy was there in the movie, on the other side of the screen, and I was on the side of the audience. The side that didn't matter. I wanted to count. I wanted to be looked at. I wanted to be the talk of the town for the week the movie played. I wanted my name to be remembered like I was a cousin or family member. I could be so much more than usual. Then I grew up. I went to a school of my choice to pursue the things I loved. But I never ended up going. My dad... My mom... she.... she... It ended with me being alone. I no longer was the audience either. I was outside the theatre. I was cleaning up afterwards. I was the person now spending all my time trying to keep the cinema running. Machines would break. Outdoor signs would break. Seats would get messed up, annoying people that were a thorn that wouldn't go away. It wasn't okay. I made it okay because I had a place to work. I had a roof under me. I was left alone because I should've had been fine. And I was. After I had found a path for myself, after I had a goal, got on my feet, and started to learn to run again is when the roof around me collapsed. I was left alone for a long time. Before I found this, I didn't think I would have been able to make it out. I didn't know what was wrong with me. Nothing was. Everything was going great. You get it, don't you? I did have to wake up every single day. That wasn't enough, though. It hurt when things were screaming at me that they needed to get done. I don't get it. I don't think anything that has happened is my fault.

I don't get it. This is supposed to be different. This time is coming over. Why don't you get it? Aren't you supposed to be the one helping me? How is anyone this helping? I'm supposed to be the one helping you. I don't get it. I'm out of here. Hey Roofus. Bye aunti, bye Fren.

Oh, shoot, I left the camera behind. I'm out of that situation just like this. Get it together, Pen. You are not allowed to be sad. I've chanted that mantra to make it go away, and it hasn't. It did for Beth and Anderia, but I can't get it to work the same. I need to focus on the camera of the shot. I'm not allowed to be sad. What does that even mean? I shouldn't be driving right now. My body wants to escape. I royally messed up. I royally messed up. I couldn't tell right from left, but I made it home. I went through the front door of my house, and I was okay. I couldn't remember anything afterwards. I can't see anything right now.

The nerves and bull-rushing in my head are almost over. my limbs are returning to me, my five senses are becoming one again. I can get out of this shot now. I can return to my eyes and leave the camera behind aunties place. What would they have said how they would have acted. The shift in the scene, the tone who would notice first, who knows the truth, what are they keeping secret thinking the other knows, the angle I am at. Facing and fronting the scene, my limits of sight, but my enchantment of hearing. Where is the attention going to? How is the rabbit reacting in all of this. is it sleeping in the cage. Is that and me the lens the eye looking at the scene disconnected from everything is going on? The rabbit is sleeping, and I'm just recording.