kindspiel fyn gula the brown eyes, the gaze that tears through the surface, a stone that sinks and the ripples reach far to the shore given by name at birth, the origin of the inclusion, the whispering final breath of the aged milking goat. the brown hair that takes on blushing kisses of a merciless, cruel, beautiful, benevolent sun. the knowledge that perpetual happiness is available in the desire of hidden challenges. games children play. kindspiel. without adornment. beyond given beauty. 010513 what's it to you? who go blather from