Nhờ sửa bài giúp

— green musg and sometimes sky’s tears.

The sky’s tears usually would come when the weather was so asleepy and usually sad or worn from the terrible world, so they — for to amande, the sky would be a girl or a boy, even the two of it — would be dabbing their watery tears from their face, the smooth clouds hiding their expression of… exhaustion, probably, and the tears always had been along the big leaf that was Amande’s roof.

She would, every morning, washes her face with the drop of a tear, sometimes even drinking from it — A long ago, she read that the sail of tears was good to drink.

She thought, instantly “I will drink it every day of my life, for i will be the stronger fairy that the world has ever seen.” And every morning she would take a cup from her room, and replace it on a tree root, waiting for the daily sky’s tear.

But and the Moon?, you would ask.

The lune, in the thought of the little fairy, was a hunter and a muse.

An alone hunter and muse.

She didn’t know if she wanted to be lay in the moon’s back or in the smooth clouds, who looked like whispering sighs and lightly sweet in her tongue.

As a fairy, amande always had eaten unbearable flowers, especially the pink ones, for which she most had this affection when looking at, touching with her little pale fingertips.

She would say, looking, as the miracle that nature was, astonished, gathered for cloudy dreams hoversting on her vision; “Could it be real?” the thought running from her mouth.

But if you cannot stand to the cruelness, close your eyes and pretend that it has not happened, does not exist.

And soon your fear will become a lost ghost.” Her mom had said it once, a long time ago when they used to stroll together, her mother grabbing the little hands of amande and waggling both while walking between gigantic trees.

They used to sit for a while, eating wild flowers that had been ripped from the air itself, the wind.

Amande loved the wind, until she discovered that it makes trees fall, therefore killing all the living substance that fairys are able to pursue, with their gentle and innofencive hands.

Amande didn’t know if she wanted to have tough hands, made to hold all things, made to be independent and strong, or gentle and soft hands, to hold flowers and eat them as a beautiful miracle, to never hunt but waiting for be the hunted, waiting graceful in the grass as the others girls like her, eyes closed while waiting for its destiny.

In a raw fair, because maybe blood was always blood.

Violence for you, or others, to the world or a bird or even the way you take away the food you eat from the earth; violence, still bloody and cruelness.

But it was utterly confusing, making everyone do a stern countenance while looking to the sky, trying to make a poor and fragil organization for that it is the world, this wilderness flood by blood of a hunted, and the claws of hunter, its raw eyes.

Amande was always making these stern countenances, when making her trials to understand the world, and for consequence no one understood her.

She was just a child trying to eat the world.

If you eat the meat fast, you can pretend that it is not blood in your tongue.

Amande did not, she wanted to hold it slightly, so at least she could know a little of what she was doing.

But it was difficult, hurtful for those whom have a torturing heart beating every second.

With the tender, graceful drifted essence of its own, she would not feel overwhelmed by invisible walls trying to make her lost the breath. Life breath.

Almost all the others kinds of the valey did not liked her, and for once a time, sometimes she was received with pebbles thrown on her face, and even insults.

She knew that it was just a consenquence for her alien manners; all people said it, but she would not regret being who she was.

A fairy trying to embrace the world with her little arms, a fairy trying to understand things and do not make her hear beat or bleed, make her try to close the eyes and go back to the earth where all living creatures should rest for eternities, until they had woken and said “I have been in a thousands of lifes and skins”