‘The sun makes even anger open like a flower,’ he said.
‘Whose anger?’ she said.
‘I don’t know. But I can make flowers, looking through my eyelashes. Do you know how?’
‘Do you mean rainbows?’
‘Yes, flowers.’

‘The sun makes even anger open like a flower,’ he said.

‘Whose anger?’ she said.

‘I don’t know. But I can make flowers, looking through my eyelashes. Do you know how?’

‘Do you mean rainbows?’

‘Yes, flowers.’

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