Language of Flowers

Propped somehow Octavia riot policeman in the parking lot near the house tiny Chery QQ, plastered bukvochki "Y" and the front and rear. Puffed, left. The next day
same here. A little man, though much large and seemingly wildly terrifying, but small does not offend. Thought. Took a fiery red sticker, inscribed angry "bad" stuck on windshield. Worked! Cherikov moved. Beret soldier bumazhentsiyu friendly green writes boldly "well done", sculpts and joyful sails away.
And chatted for a while.
And of days in ten machines stumble so much that he has just had to prop the baby. Well, I guess it does not matter. All the same, I will go ahead. Not a bit of it. It turns out he was in the morning, and no longer in place crumbs. A windshield sticker glued him. Without the text. But sky-blue color.
Mono and without words to convey meaning. The language of flowers, Elah, burns.