The breezes smell like change while I'm walking to where I'm supposed to, right? Suddenly my step hurts, but why? I have been walking through the same floor for a lot of miles. However a subtle feeling looks out of my chest, and what keeps me motivated don't have a body anymore. It overflows from my hands, I think the size of my skin fits me small. I'm corroded from inside, is this the end? Down there, where now is more near-surface, is ready who is capable to take control and relieve pain. It's time to figure out what she knows and let her take care of the garden. There's a sweet beauty in wildflowers because they are free, stubborn, and moody. They don't need someone for a living, they challenge concrete and win on the finesse. It doesn't matter how many times they get cut off, they come back. It doesn't matter how bad the weather is, they keep lasting. In this strange change, I got my own wildflowers. With them, I can dance sometimes to calm storms, enjoy a little more, and have new promises.