Sometimes she tried to imagine a tiny little tiger like an eraser, roaming the galleries of the ant-farm

They never understood how exactly the muscles contracted with such intensity, as if it was somehow cruel and almost fatal for the toes to contort in this unexpected manner. Eyes wide open, staring at the disoriented ant approaching her wrist, she realised that her only hope was to imagine herself landing on soft grass, ignoring the density of the chair and the menacing saddles hanging just behind her, awaiting a scandalous repossession of the land surrounding the farm. The flexibility of her own thoughts being at risk and assuming that no external forces were applied, the centre of gravity started to oscillate in such a disturbing way that the ant’s roar could be heard even beyond the threshold, where the window sill encountered the dichotomy posed by the outside light. As a last resort, the eccentric muscle contraction could have been diminished had she followed the compulsory routine generated by transitional events.