“It’s about a single violet blooming in a meadow. And the violet is in love with a young shepherdess. It dreamed that one day the girl might pick it, so that it might wilt as she clutched it lovingly against her breast.
Then, the shepherdess walked through the meadow. She didn’t see the violet and stepped on it, crushing it beneath her feet.
But the violet was happy.
Because even though the girl never knew how it felt, it was able to spend its last moments at the very feet of its beloved. And the violet’s love died peacefully, with no one else ever knowing about it.”











