 experiment, an experiment that brought together the cell in between space. Exciting, unexplosive. Powerful makes the rules. And when you are an exception to the rule of silence, experiment. I survive. And in the world of rules, you are only allowed to be one thing. Either plant or human. Either male or female. Either friend. Realized that I could communicate with plants. And I could communicate with sunshine. So I became a botanical scientist. And others like myself who have survived. Exceptions to the rules. I've worked with one of them. The other. A seed that grows into a plant. An animal. To try this genuity and experiment. Should I write you down with my pen or do you want to rest? I'll make you mad. Oh painful emotions. Should I write you down? Or should I refrain and respect the people who have caused you? Eugenuity. Which I must be the ginger. I'm experimenting with ginger. It's a molecule called Zingro. It has the essence of ginger. And you put that into my tea? Why? It's according to fear you ask. Should you write them down? Or should you refrain and respect them who has caused it? You understand my poetry? Who are you? Oh I'm ginger. Zingibar Oficionale. And like your feelings I too remain hidden. Under the ground actually. An underground stem. A rhizome. And like you I remain true to my flavour. You remain true to your flavour. To what? Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a mother. And she baked a gingerbread boy. She made his hair and his mouth from resin. His buttons from bags. And then when he was baked and ready she sent him out into the world. But she told him that no matter what happens you must always remain true to your flavour. The gingerbread boy then grew into a gingerbread man. He got a job from a business. The gingerbread man worked so hard and yet could not climb up any higher on the ladder of hierarchy. But the company became, as they say, a money spinner. And with that growth grew the greed of the business man. Fire your colleagues. That way you become more important. But that's not fair. I hired them. And it is because of the hard work that we are making of this huge profit. Don't be such a fancy dear man. Fired them. That way you make more money and so do I. It's good for business. Now do it. Advice that was common in practice. But my heart could not accept it. To preserve his faith the gingerbread man decided to give him a cup of coffee. But the greedy business man got a career. Oh you pathetic fag. I knew you didn't have it in you. You're such a willy-milly. After making the diet plan for you, this is how you repay me. You abandon me. You betray me. I will destroy you. The gingerbread man decided to run. He ran for his life. Run as fast as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man. But the greedy business man lied. And he would force charges on the poor gingerbread man. And so the gingerbread man had to hide underground. Life is a dance. The earth is filled with poetry and flavour. But no matter what happens, you must always remain true to your flavour. As fast as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man. And then he had to save himself from the dog that bramed. Run as fast as you can. Run as fast as you can. Run as fast as you can. Run, run, run. Andwho has to save himself from the collage? And then why are you so queer? And I want to keep you safe. But I don't think this man is fit for tigers. Yes, he was commonly practised but my heart would not accept it and he ran through it. He ran through his life. He ran as fast as he can. You can't catch him on the chin to run around. And then he had to save himself from the rat and played. Err, dare you the shame? In his poetry, he survived but he had to save him. Underground, underground, ginger risotto. Let me underground him. In his poetry, he was churning a potent flavour, earthy and sharp and fungent to savour. Life is only a choice for enlightenment. And enlightenment, of course, by heterosexual rules, disobeyed and we are fools. So much shame and guilt foundation on which heterosexuality continues to be. Stories are told but some unfold. It was stories where characters are filled with virtue and say, Riva, keep again that sleepless night. Shouldn't we get the dreams of fright? And sat along with bouquets of dilemma. And pulled around my neck the noose so tight. But its colour became a death caillou. The flavour is forgotten. All that remains are memories of massacre. Not he, not she. The spice identity saffron. The perception of gender identity. For me saffron, not saffron. And yet, I will not reproduce sexually. I am propagated, I am not saffron. And entirely of the world, boast of the saffron wars and revolution. A definition has been forced upon my identity. And we cannot deny our truth, not out there and not in here. But having said whatever we have said, it seems that our happy ending would only be the life that grows on us when we are dead. What did they teach you in school? You think you know it all and you add so cool? Or were you an exception? I think you're on top of the food chain. When in fact you are, is the only species. A plant. But a plant grows you with fruits to absorb you. But it's filled with your bacteria and fungi. And they, in a way that is yet, you look at your mobile phone. But your emotions, they are canned. Your lives feed you in school. And so cool did they teach you. Some biological, theoretical and emotional define my gender. Emotionally charged. A flavor that can take away your shame. A flavor beyond any truth. A flavor, a flavor of rich. Stress of seduction, aim of love. Ancient as they come. Money fused my veins as money. Made the potion to again, to help life that can no longer survive in its natural habitat. A sky above. The sun is far. Its light is fast. It hits the earth and then it starts. Feed that grows into a plant. An animal that eats the plant to grow. Fungi that grows on both animals and plants. Underground. Connecting. Confusing. Creating. And life. Life is dark. And life.