Lots, parcels. Each one is different like somebody separated all life with fences and in each parcels a different type was contained. I am walking a road on sloppy hill filled with these parcels. One is peaceful, filed with green grass and trees which shine in the afternoon sun. There is no fence on the road side and I can see a bench a bit further inside. I enter it and walk to the bench. I am walking for some time towards the bench yet it does not seem closer. I hear a buzz, then I feel a sting in the arm. Sharp and very short. Then pain is replaced by a stiffness which seems to grow. I hear the buzz again and I start running. The air is filled with stinging, paralyzing bugs. A sting, then another. It’s harder to run with a dragged let. I run toward the fence. Another sting. I manage to climb. On the other side a helping hand grabs me. I am half the fence like a stiff plank of wood. I look at the helping hand and it’s face. It’s me. Grabbing a stiffened body balancing in equilibrium on the top of the white painted fence. I wake up.

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