Yotam Gingold
Practice your empathy.

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translated poetry:
Who attacks you, proud gourd?
Who leaves tiny bites and scratches in your armor?
Who desires your hard flesh, stiff with forbearance?

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The Escape Artist

Candidly I glanced over my shoulder left and over my shoulder right. Nobody, nothing. I ducked into the pellet store and hid under a counter until the shop owner shut the lights and the door for the night. Gradually, over the next 10 minutes, I let my body relax and spill out from my hiding place. With a heave I rolled onto my side, checked my pulse (still there!), and lifted myself into a crawl. I made my way into the storage room, found a suitably large box, and curled up.