Vore

New, strange, colorful flowers are blooming in the garden. Don't be afraid, and I know it's the sun for I am a cloud.But, no, I'm afraid to imagine what it means for the world, that is, I don't want that I say what I think, not in the world. I do not want to believe that the evil in the body is very ugly, a flickering secret of the hand. I have learned. Undefined colors bleed through the air. Rejoice in Their presence.