Lost, dehydrated, and fearful, I stumbled upon an old temple in ruins. The jungle had choked the life out of its once amazing structure. Vines twisted around crumbling statues and the rain had formed ruts in the walls. I walked through an unstable entry way to the temple, looking for somewhere to rest my blistered feet. I figured that no one would find me in this pile of stones, so I continued to venture further into the temple. Most rooms were flooded, littered with parts of the ceiling that caved in, and too tiny to find a space to hide in. In an open space that resembled a room of prayer, I sat down in a dry spot with my back leaning against a stone bench. With this tiny moment of rest, the images began to swarm through my mind. I can see myself standing in front of the bulldozer and the ugly face of the man in the suit. I remember the gun being jammed into my back as they pushed me off the property. I can still feel the anger that surged through my body when I heard the crunching of trees by the machinery. When I looked down, I saw my clenched fist and my thorn-bitten legs. My vision became hazy with tears and my head felt like it was spinning. I looked around the room for answers, but all I saw were the beady eyes of a bat staring at me from a dark corner.