Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

don't get too close, it's dark inside.

Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
and rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told and some choose to believe it.
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.


Placing her pen neatly next to her mug, she picked up her watch from the other end of the table and put it on. The pen was rolling. She grabbed it just in time. Standing up, she began to turn towards a loud crash from her wardrobe. 

All her clothes had fallen off the rack as it had broken into two. The weight at the centre was too much for the rack to hold. 

All her clothes; she took days to iron, nights to fold or hang up; she took weeks to classify then according to length of sleeves, months to rearrange them further by colour. 

Now it was all on the ground. The rack could not be salvaged. All her hard work was for nothing, her pretty clothes were now in a mess. 

She gently picked up a few pieces. She threw it across the room in frustration. Walking over to pick it up, she groaned with even more frustration of having the trouble to pick it up. 

Suddenly, an idea popped up. The idea was perfect. 

She grabbed as much as her two arms could hold, from the pile of clothes on the floor. 

In her arms were different types of clothes; of different colours; some loved and worn many times, some never worn before. 

She threw it all up in the air. 

It was like rainbow rain, with all the different coloured clothes raining down on her. 

Who could resist rainbows?



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