"It's what's inside that counts," she said, "but what about when you're inside out?" She knew the answer they'd all give. Birds and butterflies only know the one. A single truth they live and breathe. On display for all to see. Their symphony of fluttering wings that hum with meaning springtime brings. Winter too, because no matter the season, their hum stays true. And as she leaned through the window again today, she envied them. Their intricate simplicity. Their surety. That timeless hum of infinity, tuned to the echoes of eternity.
All she could hear was uncertainty about tomorrow, and the next day. Wondering where her inside ends and outside begins. Knowing only that she's happiest here, between the two. Feeding roses her special brew of space steeped in thyme, sage and stardust. Filtered through the same sublime chaos directing their symphony. Fertilised by overripe questions she'll never answer, because after all, endings are just beginnings in disguise...
