Im sitting next to dead air while there is a garden of life outside my window. With this wooden chair sapping the life out of my body, i ask myself how much longer ill live. Ill walk and rub my face into the the wind. Skipping the cracks that divide my steps and grabbing onto passing trees. Humming myself a melody and look toward the setting sun- green lawnchairs are great for resting i mumbled. i found that lying in wet grass is more comforting than most feeble arms.