Rose Blumen ~ Exogignesthai 126. On the road, 1

(Rose)

I’m currently walking on a long abandoned road. The road itself, a human construct, is weary, desolate and falling apart. Because so plants and other things are taking their chance across it.

What turned out to be a nightmare for humans was also a dream of freedom and power finally co true, for other living things. They experience a wider world.

I think I went to the other side. Because that road doesn’t scare nor saddens , but looks appealing and pretty to . Who wouldn’t co to enjoy the wonders of a world they don’t really know, given the chance?

That chance I received, it’s sothing so strange I will feel confused about it for a few more years. Because I lost a world and a life I loved. And living here forced to change and accept things I would never had otherwise. But now that the hard ti is over, I can enjoy this new life.

I think it’s called symbiosis, what I have with Blu living along with . More than making live, that was her dream all along...

She used to laugh before. She’s more shy since she’s clinging onto . Her body fused with mine is controlled by both of us. Like breathing, I can take the control over it if I think about it.

She can’t do much anymore. But she tells she’s never been so happy before.

So of her brambles can sort of replace my damaged left hand. But mostly, she’s the few flowers blooming from the wounds in my chest.

She told that her brain wasn’t made with physical matter, but was like an invisible flower growing on her real flowers. She’s alive in the few buds and flowers I have there. It could change in ti, but that’s what it is for now.

I need to eat more than before. Because I’m feeding her too.

I never had a child but I don’t think it feels similar to this prior to birth.

She’s also sharing my senses. And there’s a strong empathy between us. We share the sa life after all.

~

We’re outside the now empty territory. It’s all quiet and cold. It’s pretty. I feel sowhat confident. I’m warming up by a fire for the night. I’ve finally taken the book I’ve carried all this ti to the right person.

I flip the pages of the translated docunt.

B - What is that book?

She can’t read very well. I’m getting used to hear her voice within my body. I wonder if soone next to could actually hear her. I’m smiling.

R - It’s a book that speaks of you.

B - ?

R - It’s the docunt of transmigration of the daiûa... From the ocean you were born in, to this earth that you love...

She’s intrigued I can tell. It amuses , and I’m playing with it.

B - Tell ... Please, read it to .

R - It’s not really a good book of stories, but alright, I’ll try. Maybe I can adjust them for you... For us.

And as we go, I begin to read her so of the folkloric tales in the docunt. They barely translate, so what I don’t like or don’t understand about their poetry, I try to reimagine. What could have been instead? It’s a very hard exercise for , but I try it anyway.

To turn so of the coldest stories into softer tales, using my mories and wishes. She likes very much my ridiculous attempts at making the stories co sweet. To laugh, after the horror has faded behind, a new morning cos.

The tragic tales of mischievous and tricking daiûas... I try to make them co under the angle of a tale where you, love .

That was your wish. May it co true. Today, that makes happy.

It’s funny, because there was so much I wanted to ask you, and it mostly beca pointless.

Tomorrow, wherever we go, the sun will rise again.

~

Rose Blu.