I sit here, in these spring flowers. These spring flowers, which I are bright yellow. (I see yellow very well you, know.)
Above me is the open sky. The big, beautiful sky, which is bright blue. (I see blue very well too, you know.)
The grass beneath me is cool. Fresh. Fragrant.
Ojo is running, always running, but I sit still. I smell the breeze. I smell the flowers and the birds, the ocean and the grass.
And I wonder... What is the meaning of life? Why am I, Jacobi K. Lintott Press, here? Why are these flowers here? Why is my person here?
Why does the earth grow grass? Why is chicken yummy and bananas yucky?
Any why oh why does Ojo never stop running?