“Clean air; bird song; fresh flowers; and the leaves unfurling on the twigs.”
“What branch does not have its leaves and which twig will not have its flowers?”
“It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.”
“Fresh flowers bloomed from vases, sweetly scenting the air. Again, he had no idea. Fine. He'd requested those. That shit smelled good.”
“The air is so clean out here, so fresh. Reminds me of when I was a little girl in Georgia." Then she took More from her pack and lit it.”
“And suddenly it smelled like someone forgot to turn on the gravity. The air was so fresh and light you could practically float on it. Flowers were everywhere, all of them bursting with color.”