You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) "Who-" He'd interupt himself now sitting down accepting the polite offer. He'd mutter to himself "this town is quite strange." Benson would look at the woman and now look down. "My story- My story is that I am travelling the world in hope to find a nation accepting to all. With no inequality whatsoever."
