Between Two Worlds
I stand between two worlds. South at my back the jungles of Apolytonia stand like an army of titans. Under their shadow the people of the Banana were born, and there lies their eternal home. There is everything familiar and comfortable.
Looking north, I can see for miles into the land of the Americans. The men of the jungle become agoraphobic on the plains; the men of the plains suffocate in the jungle. Yet here lies the future of Apolyton.
For now, it is a matter not of if but when.
The fruit pickers and market stallers are leaving, hustled out of the danger zone by national guardsmen. The clouds of war are gathering, a war that will decide the future of Apolytonia.
Such is the nature of civilization. There must always be a winner and a loser, a conqueror and a vassal. If we win we will be vindicated. If we lose we will be forgotten.
The soldiers are waving me away now. As I hurry back towards the comforting leaves of the Apolytonian jungle, I steal one last glance at the plains. A storm is blowing south from the mountains, and the lands under its shadow are dark and silent as they wait for another storm, a storm of men and steel that will soon sweep in from the opposite direction.
I stand between two worlds. South at my back the jungles of Apolytonia stand like an army of titans. Under their shadow the people of the Banana were born, and there lies their eternal home. There is everything familiar and comfortable.
Looking north, I can see for miles into the land of the Americans. The men of the jungle become agoraphobic on the plains; the men of the plains suffocate in the jungle. Yet here lies the future of Apolyton.
For now, it is a matter not of if but when.
The fruit pickers and market stallers are leaving, hustled out of the danger zone by national guardsmen. The clouds of war are gathering, a war that will decide the future of Apolytonia.
Such is the nature of civilization. There must always be a winner and a loser, a conqueror and a vassal. If we win we will be vindicated. If we lose we will be forgotten.
The soldiers are waving me away now. As I hurry back towards the comforting leaves of the Apolytonian jungle, I steal one last glance at the plains. A storm is blowing south from the mountains, and the lands under its shadow are dark and silent as they wait for another storm, a storm of men and steel that will soon sweep in from the opposite direction.
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