Beneath a luscious garden, where grass is known to grow and birds often sing the rhythm of the universe, there is a bed of rocks. Beneath those rocks, among the worms and critters that inhabit the surrounding area, there is a full layer of the Earth’s crust where the minerals produce enough warmth to sustain several different life forms. It is not much further down below this, encased in a large enclosure of petrified wood, which has worn well over the many centuries since it has found itself shifted into this position by a massive earthquake.
Within this enclosure, there is a small trickle of running water that becomes naturally purified by the mineral deposits that it passes through along its journey from the frozen ice caps atop the nearby mountains. Thanks to this fresh water supply, which is one of the necessary elements to sustain human life, there is a man. Having lived below the surface, where oxygen roams freely, for a significantly long period, solitude is perhaps the only easy part.
It all began some time ago, when the hustle and bustle of the situation, as he liked to think of it, became entirely too much for a good natured person to bear. Leaving nobody behind and no stone left unturned, the journey began for Harjen. With little more than the clothes he had found himself dressed in that morning and a cheaper than average swiss army knife, his trek started. In his search for order and structure, the beginning was all that ever seemed to matter. That is, except for the actual process of being involved in something specific that he had convinced himself to succeed at before beginning.
To be continued…