An open balcony, vases, roses, a butterfly dancing. All that. Pristine skies over the balcony and almond flowers on the streets. The dervish still whirls but quietly. Semantics blurred in her mind; she couldn’t distinguish the butterfly’s dance from the dervish’s whirls. The butterfly tattoo on her arm exposed; it’s time to take a selfie, it’s time to take more selfies before the butterfly vanishes because in the company of butterflies she feels more photogenic.