Page 4 (The child opens the cover of the book: pressed flowers are inside) INDISS: Once, it was seeds on string. And then knots in rope. Now, it is marks on paper. It is just an illusion. CHILD: I am a new people of the world. INDISS: (turning towards window) No. You are apart from them, my girl. CHILD: (closing the book) Why am I still apart?