Duck Lake dorn zunge

he would have disagreed that sarah was daft; he had met very few true fools in his life, and she did not number among them. he himself existed outside the binary of emotion, often unable to articulate or express the loathsome churning of his baser self. he had learned from others to mimic, to organize himself into some sense of cohesion — to match.
"i vould be content being a tree, ja," he murmured softly. "but i vould prefer to travel. perhaps as a bit of pollen on the back of a bee."
bemused, he glanced to her again, wondering if this line of conversation had made him an utter dullard in her eyes.