The grass is emerging as the warm caresses of the sun, the breath of life that is lost in the soft air of spring. The elongated body, arms outstretched, eyes closed lost in the immense journey of thought, a simple wind comes close to this being enchanted by the beauty of an idea. Very distant, benevolent guardian in this journey almost infinite tree waves its branches in the game of the day dazzling. The whistling wind on the leaves, through this web of knotted twigs created by eyes abused. Time so fixed fled on the wings of a butterfly passenger. The old silent confidant knows his moments where a man in his foot trying to escape to a world which only he knows the history. His upper trunk bark wrinkled and full of life lines that spring and winter have left him, he is proud of its branches for each story as he listened. Party in this beautiful country of thoughts, the host with its roots no longer perceives the disorder of life. So lost in his usual, indefatigable watchman left alone to watch the butterfly away traveler who also carries the memories of his stories that he kept as a priceless treasure. Over the seasons, it relies on changing the tables to tell her stories of utopia in which he described as. On white snow writes the rare purity of thought see, in the autumn colors the immense diversity of those who marched, all their splendor in the summer sun, and its buds in the spring so well express the inspiration of the past to be born again different. But the miles of scenery one year does not seem large enough to travel he did not even move. And at her feet parading the imaginative, dreamers, naive, and hopeful, the more jealous of them have the privilege to use the ability to think. But age sours, and this may be because of him, he comes to hate them. As this man hates to have his foot and his great ideas for better sleep on idle. He hates him that tomorrow will still drink their blood, their bodies decompose feel too early, have their lives be guided by ideas so far from those dreams that her story as a child. Yet, despite the number and diversity, it no longer believes in, yet he still could if everyone spoke and took the oath of fidelity to their wonderful spirit worker.
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