Whispering, remembering a quiet path. Two friends might walk and share a word or two. Further down the path, a nettle maybe catching at the skin. The pain is just enough to demonstrate the consequence of a daydream, wandering, not watching where you tread. Wild justice for the petals that we tread beneath or feet.
"The buzzing bee, the breeze, I'm sure they find humour in each other and speak when human steps depart." Said the left.
"The breeze will take a summer hat and send it tumbling ahead. Then the bees and flowers laugh at these strange visitors." Said the right.
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