It’s further into the wild than my land, although that doesn’t mean it’s organically inclined despite the work it’s been given. While I appreciate Bo’s need for solitude I don’t understand its sneered distaste for the natural world, or why it chooses a barren, infertile waste to call its own. As far as I can tell it has no feel for its qualia. I believe the work is more suited to me. The journey is a good two-hours’ bound, and in time the abundant grasslands are left behind until I’m travelling over grey earth, baked dry by lack of foliage, dusty and cracked like rotten vegetation. Plumes of clouds explode beneath my feet as I take off, hit the ground. Trees are crumbling and withered. Nothing stirs for miles except the breeze. Death’s mute voice is everywhere.

It would be easier if I were airborne, I know that. Sometimes I wish the modifications had been fitted before my daymark, but you can’t choose your specs. Anyway, it goes against my beliefs to excrete substances that damage organics, so I bound without complaint. It’s not exactly difficult, although it is wearing on the joints. That’s why I only travel to visit Bo, or Old Town, avoiding permanent damage.

If I close my eyes and imagine, I could almost be avian. One push from my bent knees, an abrupt straightening of the legs and I’m thrust high into the air, fine earth swirling below. The wind howls and buffets my body. The ground disappears; with the right weather conditions there are even wisps of cloud. On a sol-filled day like this, it’s a beautiful way to travel.

There are many techniques for a bound. I favour hands laid flat against my sides, legs together and feet pointed towards the earth for optimum speed, chin tucked into my chest, even though it limits visibility. At peak trajectory I change to the crouch position, knees and arms bent as though I’m about to sprint; this slows descent. Some like to roll into a ball then arrow their body towards the ground, arms outstretched, palms together, assuming a crouch position closer to the earth. To me this is madness. I prefer the slower method, straightening the right leg just before landing so the force is absorbed through a greater body mass. After, I stand upright, legs together, to bound again. Before long a rhythm builds and I’m hardly aware of what I’m doing.