Halloo

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5:20 p.m., the pleasant fragrance of all the little white flowers on three 10-meter-tall tree hailed softly to me from the opened door, saying "come out, hit me up, I'm flowering again, come here to see me~” 

8:30 p.m., the air in the tiny spot I sit is filled with the flower fragrance, stronger as the night deepen. I'm nothing but a bee munching the pollen desperately. I breathe deeply, to perfuse my lungs with the soul of flowers.

I walked out to smile at that flower tree across the fence. I closed my eyes, inhale, inhale and inhale. 

Mother nature delivered the message clearly — backwards is the unbreathable kitchen exhaust,  one step outside, outside the walls, is a world of pleasant fragrance. Choose wisely.



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