I love my island.

Set in a big ocean with little to no waves, surrounded by fish and octopuses, it sits peacefully. From the banks of my wheat fields I can see far. Other islands, cliffs, distant lands. I am content on my island, I find myself making peace.

I have found that I am the maker of my destiny, of my surroundings. Whatever I touch, falls apart of is erected. I have built the tower on my island with my hands. I am keeping my cows and my sheep. I feed the fish so that the fish feed me.

My tiny harbour welcomes my friend, for whenever we are far we have the chance to be close. We look out on the sea together, the island flickering in the light of the campfires and torches. When you think about it, it is not hard to forget about life beyond that island.

I create away. Just for a moment, I will be here.

I am a hermit. I have become reclusive.