“…”

Silence.

They say silence is golden, tranquil. But when that silence is forced upon you, ese, that silence tastes like vinegar. When your voice was once your lifeblood, silence is death.

It’s not unlike having a mouthful of food forced down your throat. Trying to speak, but being left gasping for air.

He opens his mouth but the words won’t come out.

He’s choking, how?

Now as I stand, silenced and reduced to simply a man, I must rebuild myself. I must ask the question of who I am. I’ve been left choking on this void. Now this old soul must find sustenance to survive.

So what is more important to sustain the body, food or water? What is the most essential need to be catered to, hunger or thirst?

You’ve made your livelihood out of catering to your own hunger, Lord High Emperor of Sustenance. You meticulously prepare your meals, and inside that ring, you serve each dish to perfection.

I’m that meal to you, prime for cooking. A slab of tenderised meat that you sense weakness in, ready to be seared over your grill. You’re hungry to see me weakened, mi amigo. You’re all too happy to eat at my expense.

Yet as hungry as you are to succeed, nourishing yourself on the suffering of others, some morsels have always remained just too big a portion to choke down. On Elysium’s menu, you pride yourself on the perfect planning and preparation of your meals, yet The Zookeeper still evades your grasp.

So you remain hungry, ravenous to catch that morsel. Without food, the body can last only weeks, so your desperation to eat fills you.

I’m hungry too, Savor. But what drives me most is not my hunger to succeed. It is something even more crucial.

It is an undying thirst to find my voice. A thirst that is stronger than any hunger. La musica to me, it wasn’t just sustenance… It was the very water of life.

I drank in the music. It was part of me, flowed to every fiber of my being. It hydrated my soul. And without hydration, the body can only survive days, not weeks.

Without it, I have no voice, no sound. I am the silence of someone choking to death.

Because now I’m walking through the fucking desert. An endless expanse of nothingness. And all I want is a drip of water to drink. A single note I could sing.

But I open my mouth and nothing comes out.

No notes.

“…”

Every fiber of my being yearns to make up to Vida for my failures.

But I’m lost. Desperate to breathe again.

That’s where you come in, Lord Emperor of Sustenance. You’re a drip of water in the desert, ese. A taste to these parched lips.

And you bet your life I’m going to drink.

I’m going to drink every last fucking drop from you, before you have time to turn on the gas and begin cooking.

I’m just a man, drinking my fill to fill that void. Bottom’s up.