|. Raffia flowers

White flowers, with light pinkish centers. Raffia flowers.

Raffia, the source of energy that keeps the city running. The underground city of Lux, a dismal somber locality where the unlucky wallow. They welter in the pollution, the dust, the disease. The insanity. Their lives only brightened by factitious light shining above the city, at the clemency of the Class. The higher ones living in white rooms, in white houses, with white fountains flowing pellucid water, bathed in white light.

Raffia flowers.

They capture this light into their petals, into their color. That's why I like them. These flowers. Flowers that represent hope, that represent life. All over the village of Gabe they bloom, in the dark. In the caves where the Raffia flows, in the ponds where the fish swim, in the stone where the grass grows, in peoples' futures where their fates are sewn. These Raffia flowers give me hope, a means to survive in this place. In this city, full of insanity and full of black. Black hearts and black minds. Hopeless lives and hopeless fates. Bleak. Desolate and bleak, barren like the ground they stand on. But these flowers, these flowers give me hope. A white bright hope. Though, despite this hope nothing ever changes.

Nothing. Not the lives, not the futures, not the fates. Nothing ever changes, always staying the same. White flowers, with light pinkish centers.

Raffia flowers. They are the source of energy that keeps me running. That keeps me sane.