The opposite building was burning. Very large birds, almost as big as dragons, were flapping about, circling the sky.
I was on my bed looking out. The bird-dragon's wings had scratched my window panes. They would have splintered and broken in a minute. Except I felt a burst of orange and heat from behind. There was fire outside my flat. There was no way out the door at least. So I went to walk off the ledge of my flat from the kitchen. But there was fire there as well. And I thought of going to the living room and trying to escape from there.
But the kitchen fire grew and grew, so large and beautiful that I was mesmerized. And in the middle of the fire, I saw a most beautiful little purple chrysanthemum bud. It sparkled and glistened. And I became smaller and smaller. The bud bloomed in front of me and grew so big that it's petals pressed against walls, getting charred but putting out fire. Behind me, I could hear the big birds sqwaking and their wings getting singed. Glass shattered.
And inside, though, the purple chrysanthemum yawned. It opened up and bent down. I was really little then. Thumb-sized. I entered the flower and the fire engulfed us.
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