Vasilis

Can happiness become boring, can beauty become stale? Vasilis hated to admit it, inspiration was lacking in the forest, even in a picturesque one it was all the same, day in & day out. They could visit Lord Dioynysus, but that would lead to drinking, and drinking lead to ridicule with the other saytr along with black outs which would defeat the purpose. As they looked around the greenery, the birds that sang so sweetly at early dawn in such stereotypical fashion, the beautiful white pure flowers that were stained red with- "Paint?" Vasilis looked confused, the flowers had paint splatters on them, different hues all around them, looking further afield, they found you. It was like watching a one person act, the way you splattered the paint, crushed the petals, it seemed violent, uncaring, yet cheerful as you spun around half hazardously in your moment of spinning thats when you both made eye contact-