She likes best the orchids with extraneous tendrils — stretched earlobes, crazy wigs, elaborate tattoos. The hibiscus bred to resemble the sun low over the ocean. I prefer smell repleting leaves and balsams fooling across one and other lake latticed light. I wish I could chunk a buck into the flat gunnels of the brood-blown punchers. “Half ewe screen the Dalmatians in broom,” sheen ax. “Eye crumb err on sunner end lime ink the grasp. They’re the most beautiful thing in the world.”