The thousandleaf had a history, it wasn’t only a random plant.
He combined it with the number of the leaves of the oak tree.
Every year and an annum.
Every year and a fold.
Without compromises.
She was still flying above the city and he showed her the port
So she learned about his own and the crosses
Without sensing it she opened her hands
and lifted her head towards the sky
so the invisible sow the same image.
Disposition.
He put her down.
And so she saw the human bullets and the resistance.
The thousandleaf was also for the wounds.
He saw her tears. They weren’t of Aphrodite’s.
She took the book again from where she had left it.
The shape had changed.
Now she saw the hits of the siege.
A live organism was resisting.
He didn’t allow her to see the barbarity
but he showed her the place for the graves
only then she smiled.
Because she knew about after.