Folded. Yes, folded. They bend and score and twist and press, but I will not be made as they. Not for a day. No, not a day.
Opened. Yes, opened. All flowers must bloom, petals unfurling to take in the sun. The butterflies will come. Yes, they will come.
Beautiful. Yes, beautiful. This world of colour and texture and light and sound. It’s magical when you look. Folded? No, not I.