When this happens, whole forests die and must be replanted. The common became precious, said grandfather remembering the last time the forest bloomed. Today that old man woke up, beat his chest, and cried.
Lovers make a bed of the blossoms.
The carpenter lays down his saw. The mayor calls a meeting and holds his head. Everyone I know is milling along the street by the river. It is the rainy season, the temple is crowded. Now a man raises his fist to his wife for the first time.