Man and Flower.

What follows is some stuff.

A man starts off at the deepest point in the deepest valley in Northwest Leicestershire.
A thing strikes the man, because the deepest valley in Northwest Leicestershire is actually just the bottom of a teeny tiny hill. Northwest Leicestershire is mostly flat. Or it might not be. Who gives a fuck anyway?

The man tries to climb out of the darned valley everyday and everyday he manages to take a half dozen or 7 steps up the teeny tiny hill. He makes the steps despite having inappropriate shoes for the task. If the man made steady progress at an average of 6.5 steps a day, at the end of the month he would reach the summit of the teeny tiny hill.

There's a snag. Upon reaching step 17 the man gets nostalgic. Or he sees a butterfly which triggers a memory and he longs for the deepest point in the deepest valley in Northwest Leicestershire. It also doesn't help that at the deepest point of the deepest valley in Northwest Leicestershire is a flower.

The flower is arguably pretty. You might say it was positively stunning. You may also say that the flower was amazingly astounding. The last two sentences are however unlikely to be said by you, unless you are a liar, because saying those things would be lies. Or more accurately they are truths if you ignore all the less couth parts of the flower. Like the thorns or the crinkled petals. Of course these features were ignored by the man, for they made the flower only arguably pretty. And who get's nostalgic for things that are only arguably anything?

The man, forever drawn to the flower, but also longing for a good meal (Cheese and Pineapple Toasted Sandwich) decided enough was enough and decided to make another attempt at the ascent. He failed and went back down again.