So I believe that it was the god who felt the ordeal, my soul was going through with the unpleasing terrain and an upset stomach, and unveiled before me the pink blossoms on the wild trees which sprang from the rock surfaces. These blossoms were a thing of the spring season and to see them amidst the dull grey of the drying foliage and dead trees was something out of a book of divine anecdotes. These trees were scattered and did not grow in groups like the others did. They radiated in the brightness of the hue which pierced the grey of the terrain and silver of the mist. With the slight moment of happiness which was as fleeting as any other moments of happiness, it instilled a sense of hope and independence.