

I had this tiny seed with me, since I was seven years old. not 7, but seven with letters. I used to feed her every morning and every afternoon. soon she became my best friend. we used to do everything together. we found a dog, we drank from the sink, we counted clouds and fought with the seven seas. my seed was growing faster than me. I was eleven, she went to collage. she moved away so fast that I could'nt even get her number. I heard about her when I was seventeen, she got married and had two blue children. She wrote a letter to me, the letter arrived when I was twenty, she wrote she was very happy. I saw a picture of her at the bottom of the paper, she was old but beautiful still. She was a very successful song writer, very wealthy and fit. I wrote back, I wrote that I missed her a lot. Then the letters stoped. This year I'm twentyfour, and last day I had a package from the local gardener's association. they sent me a tulip between a dark heavy book. the pages she was between were seven and seventy. the pages looked silent. the pages were all deep; magenta...