The plants would not play with him, because he was to jittery and nervous. (Though he suspected that they just had foot envy, perhaps?) No animal would play with him either, because of his very clear floral roots. At times he wished there had been at least a brother or a sister or some sort of rhizome, so he could spend some time with somebody or something that would somehow understand. But no, he was condemned to play all by himself. He would sometimes go into bloom, attract some selfish insects, often bear fruit and run away from birds. Other than that? His instinct for survival was the only reason for him to stay alive.


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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on July 11, 2003 12:32 AM.

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