He took her hand and they went for a walk down the meandering path into the brush. After walking in silence for a time he said, 'Child, what do you see?' She looked around for a time and thought, Opa likes thoughtful answers, and finally said, 'Life, I see life.'
He nodded sagely. 'What else?' She looked closer and noted amidst the burgeoning bustle of life the decaying flowers past their prime, insects eating other insects, a dead bird rotting in the soil under brush. 'Death Opa, I also see death.'
He stopped and looked at her, 'What will you do of this?' She thought of the world she came from, her land with its hustle and bustle and shameful rape/ignorance of Mother Earth. 'I don't know, I don't know what I can do.'
'This then,' he said, 'is something to think on.'