This monkey, with fingers not quite nimble, pinched the flower petal and brought it to its nose to smell. The faint fragrance was elusive; the monkey furrowed its brow, its large eyes shining like bright stars, childlike in their clarity and innocence.
It then stared at the petal as if it were a lover's red lips, from noon until dusk.
Finally, the petal began to wither and shrivel, and a blatant disappointment appeared on the monkey's face. It looked up at the sky, then down at the ground, and at last stood up and ran down the mountain.
As for that petal, it slowly floated down from the mountaintop, falling into a babbling brook among the mountains, drifting with the current.
What's above my head is the sky, and what's beneath my feet is the earth. These are trees, these are bushes, streams, fresh fruit, grass, thorns, rocks... And who are those frolicking and gamboling ones, who look just like me, yet are so many mes?
