Sometimes the sun is only an illusion hiding the storm.

She realized that there mere things in life that had once produced her complete happiness, were the things that now evolved into monstrous corpses of the past that were crashing on her, stepping on her while she was lying on the floor, feeling the cold pavement of July smash her face sweetly as if it wished to incrust a piece of reality into her, as if it wished to grow over her wet cotton-like grass full of flowers growing constantly and rabbits jumping around.