*Moooo~* says the cow.

It lazily munches on the grass.

We had walked upon the shore for a time.

The shore itself never seemed to end. It just went on forever.

The same could be said of the water, which was always at our side as well.

But the swamplands have indeed come to an end now, and to our other side, adjacent to the salty water of the ocean, is a grassland.

It is much easier to walk on the grass, than on the sands of the shore.

Burch stands there and looks at the cow.

The cow looks at us.

*Mooo* says the cow.

- Fascinating.

I watch as the cow slowly lowers its head and continues grazing on the grasses of the meadow by the ocean.

It is a big creature.

It is far larger than either Burch or I myself am. But it seems to be mostly docile. It simply eats grass and stands in the sun and listens to the calm cascade of the ocean waves. Only occasionally does it stop its perfect life in order to say -

*Moooo*

Haha.

That one was perfectly timed with my thoughts. Thank you, cow.

I will never forget this.

My friend’s stomach growls.

But I think that we both know that this is a bit too much. Assuming we kill the cow with no trouble, what will we do with all of the meat?

We can hardly carry it.

And stopping to cook over a fire now would be disastrous.

Poor Burch. She has no idea.

“Moooo~” says Burch, her throat rumbling as she lowers her tone.

The cow looks up at her, but keeps eating grass instead of replying.

Burch smiles, despite the cow’s rudeness.

We continue walking.

After a minute, a distant *Mooooo~* reaches us and Burch laughs.

It is good.

- Thank you, cow.

I have decided that I like cows.

They make my best friend happy.

Words.

Words are funny things.

With a word, I can define a single thing or concept.

A ‘cow’, a ‘Burch’, a ‘sunflower’. All of these things represent something singular.

- Each of these is one specific entity.

But already these things are complex in their makings. How many words are needed to describe every part of Burch? Of the cow? Of myself? After all, we are all things of many parts.

- So, in that sense, we are all things of many words.

It is very complex.

But words can also be strung together to make sentences and questions, and from there on out, things get even more complicated. A sentence can be a very wild thing. It can be as wild as any savannah, swamp or desert in the world.

And so, the level of complexity has increased immensely already. We are not speaking of abstract things such as the rules held between nature and the living, or the implications that one person’s behavior has on another. These are deep, incredible topics in and of themselves and there are thousands more topics just like them.

No, we are simply speaking of words.

If words, just by themselves, are already this complex and nuanced, then what does that say about the overwhelming complexity of experience that life offers us?

- Wow.

As my thoughts wander, I realize that I have never quite realized how complex life really is.

In the puzzle of life, there are so many thousands, perhaps millions, of individual pieces to think and to worry about at any given moment of any given day.

The light of the sun strikes me as we leave the shadow of a tree, which we were walking beneath.

- [Sunflower] -

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 324/450 EXP (Burch): 75/310

It is warm.

It is bright.

It feels good.

- Perhaps life is not that complex after all?

Why bother thinking about such topics in depth, when it brings you no joy, akin to anything that something as simple and clean as the warmth of sunshine can bring?

One might think that they are smart for doing so, for engaging in such intellectual circling.

But, I would argue that there is no smart creature in this world that is as happy as I am right now. I have learned much from my best friend, Burch, and her simple ways.

The sun kisses me and I spread my petals and leaves out wide, taking in the full scope of its warm kindness.

Life is simple.

Life is good.

I am a sunflower.

- Don’t make it more than what it has to be for you to be happy.

A giant crab stands before us.

It is most fearsome.

Well.

It would be, if it was not dead.

- However, this crab is no longer with us.

It is a deceased crab.

Why is the crab dead?

What killed it?

Why is it laying here?

Life has once again brought us many questions and I find no answer to any of them.

“Wow…” says Burch beneath her breath.

I agree.

Wow.

It is a very imposing crab.

She holds her hand up to its pincer.

(Burch) has used: [Minor Pulse]

The shell cracks, the arm wobbling. She does it again.

(Burch) has used: [Minor Pulse]

The large claw falls off of its body, falling down into the damp sand.

She picks it up and carefully smells it.

I wonder what smelling something is like?

- Ah.

I am jealous again.

Burch has a richness of experience to her existence that I, in my infinite simplicity as a sunflower, may never know.

Whatever she was worried about smelling, however, it does not seem to be present.

“I’m gonna put this here,” she says, wedging the pincer between her rucksack and herself, atop my roots, which press into her flesh. “That’ll be dinner tonight. I’m starving,” she says and groans.

Her eyes wander towards the horizon and I know that she considers stopping here, now, to make a fire, to eat her fill of the rich, soft, crab meat.

- She is desperately hungry.

Her body craves nutrition in a form that I can not provide through my sharing of simple sugars.

We stand for a moment.

But then, Burch keeps on walking, following the road to paradise.

Curious.

It would seem that the hunger, which Burch feels in her spirit, is stronger than the hunger of her flesh.

- Most curious.

Tell me, Burch. What do you hope to find in paradise?

I can not say.

But it must be a magnificent thing. Why else would we be here? Why else would we have come all of this way? Why else would you have taken me from my meadow, all those weeks ago?

What magnificent, spiritual splendor lies in your mind’s eyes, as you think of the place where we are going to?

It must be divine.

Even I can not explain how my friend keeps going, despite her body aching and quivering and being ready to fall in on itself like a fallow log.

- Or not.

That might have been a little lie on my part. I suppose that I have become most mischievous in my advancing age. Haha.

My roots, pressing in through her back, weave their way down to her legs, to her arms, to her chest and, when the muscles there begin to fall slack, I push them back into place.

We will reach paradise.

Together.

There was a time when I was indifferent to life and death, to being here or there, to it being windy or calm. As long as the sun was out, I was happy.

- This last part is still true.

But, I too, find something inside of myself that overwhelms the base craving of my corporeal body for sunlight, sugars and minerals. There is something inside of me that is not of a sunflower, and that something hungers for…

Hmm…

I can not find the words.

- Paradise.

But so much more than just that.

There is a thing inside of me, that is not of my physical body, and it now drives me forward against my aches, in the same way that my roots move Burch.

I lift her arm and have her dig into the raw crab claw, to eat a nibble of it as she walks.

She thinks that she is doing it.

But it is me.

I can not say if she finds it pleasant to eat or not. But it is better than dying.

We must reach the end of the shoreline. We must reach whatever comes next. We must find a way to lose our pursuers, and we must do it today, tonight.

At our pace, tomorrow, the first of them will be upon us.

“Woah…” says Burch, finding her second most amazing thing for the day.

I can not argue with her feelings.

It is truly most amazing.

Evening has come and before us, cresting the distant horizon, is the base of a silhouette.

It is the largest silhouette that I have ever seen.

The land rises from the grasses and the rocks and it strikes up towards the sky, cutting the heavens like a knife.

Burch digs into the crab claw, eating the last of its raw flesh.

We have not stopped once since then.

She tosses it down to the ground, not bothering to turn her eyes away from what has to be the last grand barrier between here and the ever-whispering promise of paradise.

It has to be.

It has to be there. There can't be anything else left to hinder us.

Burch and I walk towards the mountain.

‘Moo’.

Haha

What a funny sound.

I wonder what sounds crabs make?

Hmm…

Most curious.

I am a sunflower.