A cronopio comes across a solitary flower in the middle of a field. First, he tries to pull her out, but thinking it unnecessarily cruel, he kneels by the flower's side and gleefully plays with her, just so: he caresses her petals, gently blows on her until she dances, buzzes about like a bee, smells her perfume and finally, lies down beneath her and falls asleep wrapped in a feeling of peace. The flower says to herself: He is like a flower.
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