Felt for frames that have flakes of paint on them with little scratches on dem and lives that fly on them also could they have pink on them and purple and green broccoli colours too you are listening arent you cause maybe these frames can walk and walk away from us they don`t like us but we like them in the trees of green fields with brown and purple dogs floundering in the soils as if they whales and dolphins in oil toil they sing us songs and we play them back to us with our little cars that we play with in the sand and grand cuts we get like grazes on our knees and little knife cuts on our pinkies like little girls on holly movies and crime all wrapt up in purr ple papers and punishment concealed in hollow tree trunks,thats us little ants marching to the bunks where we store our monies first we crunch down on the streets looking at grey vains in the concrete little cracks for valleys hills and mounts even fairy grasses we could find like me and Julia did by the side of the pool.We`ll step up a level,we`ll just walk up imaginary steps,pass the middle of a tree and sit there for a while then we step up and on to cloud proud we feel at us and then we slide on our backs on our iced tears and glide for a while where we get down to a place where our momies are waiting for us full of hugs and love and nice foods they have made for us,maybe they even made us a biscuit cake with purple astro`s on them conected by silkworm silk to little sun birds flying off into that nothingness that we know so well,that death by nostalgia thats around every corner where the hugest life lives that we cannot know,where secret ghost things do act out and who knows maybe it`s happy~