These humans, how stupid. They come to look at me, their children prancing around them like a pack of pink hairless dogs. Until they see me. Ooh, it’s scrawny, we can’t get that one! And the male, apologising to his spawn: we can’t afford a big one. Ha! Do they think I want to be chosen? Do they think I want to be garlanded with shiny objects, strips of plastic and their painful electric wires? But they do choose me, out of his economy and her pity. Her pity! I’m soon dead anyway, severed, by them, from my roots.