“A sash of iridescent butterflies fluttered across in remnants of topaz, dipped in distant peacock’s tears as they mingled with forget-me-nots and morning glories, bluebells and cornflowers spilling through the cerulean waters in the flight of an Eastern bluebird. It was no longer solid, but a creature now made of those same prismatic tears it had once touched, too refined and elegant to lose its path even as it faded away.”
