"i believe i can fly" she said. and the leaves that have already fallen and have piled up along the road; yes all those piles of autumn leaves, they just kept silent. the ground has ears. and so do the leaves. and so they heard her just like that. and they kept silent and still. in spite of the slight wind that made her hair dance, giving her the confidence she as well could fly. or somehting like that. as such. just like that.
"precisely", she could hear him say. "precisely." and she could not comprehend the concept of the precise. precisely 2 meters above the ground? precisely that spot? precisely that magnitude? how precise was she? was she ever precise? what was it to be like to try one's best to be precise?well she tried sometimes. it was after all, always an excellent exercise to try to think through another's perspective. to step out, if at all possible. to shift. a shift. how much is the shift, can u tell me precisely?
"precisely", she repeated to herself. "the leaves are precisely beautiful. "
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