“As the leaves randomly fell, she contemplated how they sacrificially gave up their essence to sustain new life. Or was it the tree’s sacrifice? Each leaf was a part of Gaia’s play. Their final act: to decompose so a new level of soil could be made, an earthen writing tablet for the next layer of history to be recorded. One generation became the groundwork for the next. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Nothing was exempt, not even the leaves.”

“As the leaves randomly fell, she contemplated how they sacrificially gave up their essence to sustain new life. Or was it the tree’s sacrifice? Each leaf was a part of Gaia’s play. Their final act: to decompose so a new level of soil could be made, an earthen writing tablet for the next layer of history to be recorded. One generation became the groundwork for the next. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Nothing was exempt, not even the leaves.”

“Feelings are real. They often become one’s reality. But they are not always based on truth.”

“Sometimes words ruin everything.”

“Not a single rumor whispered on the wind here. He was too high up for such lowly experiences, too removed from the mundane and the pain. For these few blessed moments the rushing sensations blew away his controversial existence. And he smiled.”

“He threw his hands to his eyes and hissed. Like the hiss of incinerating ashes. "What is this bright, orange orb in the sky that mocks me with its warmth?”

“He threw his hands to his eyes and hissed. Like the hiss of incinerating ashes. 'What is this bright, orange orb in the sky that mocks me with its warmth?”

“Secrets are foolish creatures, I have learned. No longer do I wish to play with fools.”

“Their leafy whispers delighted her, and she promised her confidentiality by gently touching the trunks of both trees. They had held her secrets close to their hearts, she could do no less.”

“Secrets upon secrets were weaving into a strange and mysterious fabric that would ultimately clothe his future.”

“As the leaves randomly fell, she contemplated how they sacrificially gave up their essence to sustain new life. Or was it the tree’s sacrifice? Each leaf was a part of Gaia’s play. Their final act: to decompose so a new level of soil could be made, an earthen writing tablet for the next layer of history to be recorded. One generation became the groundwork for the next. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Nothing was exempt, not even the leaves.”

“The scenic route was a paved graveyard of dreams, but Fillion hoped his would rise from the ashes, marking the moment when he would finally own his life.”