The oracle says, “It’s alright to create a new genre or new music. It’s always alright to create new art.”
She withstands the storm and walks in peculiarly.
Never before have they seen something like her.
The emerald beauty’s impact provokes procurement’s of lust and intrigue. Outside, the vineyards leisurely begin their process of vinification.
They walk towards her. The hands linger slightly, she moves in deeper, shielding herself from a profound confession.
“They’ve arrive the reddest till now.”
She wants to be adorned as a crown, not chopped down to be served with liver.
She waits. She watches.
And finally rests in peace when master rejects and the slave delights. At least a fruit knows how to respect human hunger.