I’m sitting on the bench. The same bench I have sat on for 12 days now. Bitten by the Tryffids, they coil around my arm and suck on my arms absorbing my blood. It does not hurt because this Tryffid is being gentle for some reason. I have heard that Tryffids are known to attack violently. Which surprises me why this one bites as though it is nibbling its way into the skin of a soft nectarine, its fury teeth touching onto my dewy blood……
Spiralling in a concordant whimsical breath. To breathe I inhale like a plant, I absorb. Away to escape the unearthly presence of the world. But my feet stand on the Earth’s industrial plot of land, with my inhabitants we mark our territory inside buildings, flats, tunnels, trains, streets, museums, in planes so tight, we have no time to consider their architectural identity. But through movement, my toes bend while my heels stretch in these planes, and by memory unforeseen only in the mystical consciousness I am able to recollect nature in the self, constructed within.
The Tryffid’s head I do not fear anymore. The only plant to exist, containing a jaw does not bother me anymore. But its body menaces me, with the growing anxiety I grimace at its breasts. The perfectly round tissue, the intense burgundy nipples symmetrically placed at the centre, I admire with all its vivacious beauty, so much so that the triffid fears my knowledge of the human body. Her breasts stemming from her strong torso, I begin to wonder about my birth. Seeing the body like my own, owned by a plant goes beyond the imaginable power of nature. This creature I am subordinate to, and out of breath, I sit on the bench looking down at my feet hoping to grow roots like the triffids.