Once upon a time there was a boy who liked to play with fire, and everyone always yelled at him to be careful because fire was hot and dangerous and could burn you, but that wasn’t what he saw — he saw golden tongues with blue roots, and glowing embers that smelled like the best and brightest thing in the world, and so while everyone else talked of danger, danger, danger, he saw only beauty, beauty, beauty, and he took such good care of this treasure and blew on it and poked at it so attentively that for all of the years of his very long life it never once hurt him in even the tiniest way.
Various Writings by Erin Bregman 