Once in a while he pops up, smiles out of electronic nowhere and breaks the ice on a drab everyday. Like a skillful craftsman subduing ice to make something out of his frigid slave, he is able to actually make something. Perhaps today, a flower, but on other occasions, creatures just as beautiful: poetry, songs and fond reveries. All these with his e-smile. So effortlessly he does so, and things wonderful are born of it. Perhaps if he turned his gaze an inch closer to the fence I've surrounded myself with, I would've melted to unite with the elements of time and space and z and to finally come home to my nature at last. I wouldn't mind if I turned aesthetically ugly. If he were able and if it were so, I'd rather melt and give life to a real flower, and rest vindicated that the life given me lent breath to another.