Lovely, is it not?  The sweet smell that perpetuates the air, so fragile, so weak.

 Terrible, is it not?  The dirty, crumpled piece of cloth that lay on the floor, crippled when alone, easily motivated by another's hands.

 Wonderful is the rain that comes.  It washes away the rag, and yet it dims the sweet smell that floats in the air.

Nirvana's Aphony    Look    Flik


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Speak.  Listen.