You are always meant to be somewhere, it doesn't need to be a story to tell. Narrator: I fell, quite deep, it's night, as it has been lately, but I am invited somewhere, I hear music. I need some rest, I am starting to see shapes in the air. Are you calling to me?

Information without a filter is noise. Narrator: The sun is now hiding, she's afraid of me, my greedy eyes see energy and wealth, her eyes only see a white grin. How do I tell her I'm sorry? I want to collaborate... The arrows point to you, why? What did they do?

Books hold new techniques hostage, opening their pages liberates them, and they have been freed. Narrator: I have always thought that the sun was a big sphere, smart people say it's white, but all I see is gold. I tried to approach this sun, yet I feared it, it was well guarded. Those giants...

What if your flowers multiplied? What if the elders don't guide? A citron flower is supplied How would it have dried?

Blue sky i think, yet void?

a beginning, a bush, some new techniques, there is what can be seen, and what can bee seen is less than what there is