In the back in a metal box, you will find the other sail. Quick. Before the wind gets up! Actually, there is no story about a sail but the need to write is upon me again like swarming ants around a tree so madly, deeply, I throw myself into it! Imagine that very same tree alive with the ants of seven different nests peacefully dividing up its aphids and leafs for harvesting. The tree would be literally alive with movement and activity. Imagine climbing it unawares and finding yourself bitten by seven different varieties of ant! Up there you scratch out at your nose to dislodge a particularly painful bite and notice that it is wet like a dogs and has grown a foot out from your face..Panicked you find yourself also having hunger pangs for something new. Strong pangs. Now confused by an unusual feeling you instinctively lick your lips only to find that your tongue is now sticky. An irresistible urge to lick up an ant comes upon you and you dart out your tongue twards a particularly thick cluster and then gobble them up. Mmm. Delicious! You go to rub your nose but the urge to eat is upon you and you climb this way and that all over the tree slurping up ants until there are none left. When it is clear there are none left you perch upon a branch and more new thoughts enter your mind. Killer! Ant-eater! Freak! Confused and ashamed you climb down from the tree and sit on the ground. A hedgehog shuffles by fleas jumping on its back like school sports day and you lick them up just out of curiosity. They taste different to ants you decide but the wings aren’t half chewy! Not like ants at all! You sit longer wondering where you can get an ant snack from on the way home. more climbing will be required you decide. By the time you get home that evening, you have tried ants, beetles, centipedes, woodlouse and a baby bird for size. You wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and resolve to tell no-one of your new hobby. This is how your second life began twenty-five years ago and apart from looking like an anteater from the neck up you believe that nobody has a clue what it is you do when you go out for your nightly walk. But eyes have been watching, making notes and recording you since you arrived in the new village two years ago. We have a file on you.