Chad was dead. He has been lying motionless for ages. I was there when he fell. But Chad looks the same even now. At times I wonder if he is dead. In my dreams I see him standing next to me swaying gently in the breeze. The birds and animals seem to like his current state. They have made nests and burrows on and around him. Some even lovingly call him petrified Chad. But he doesn't seem to mind. After all, he is a dead tree.
All the rants and raves from a brain that has endured decades of anthropological abuse.