I can't see them, of course, I never can but I know they're there.
They're digging, digging, franticly scrabbling at the ground.
It's utterly futile, they could dig their whole lives and the lives of their children and never do more then scratch it, but still they dig.
I can hear their little claws scraping, scraping right now.
I hear him too, running, running.
The rhythmic sound is unmistakable.
He runs and runs, and the wheel goes around and around, but he never gets anywhere.
He only does it because it's worse to go nowhere standing still than it is to go nowhere on the run.
And maybe that's why they dig too.
Maybe that's why anyone does anything.
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