Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • "Ah, but it's so much more real when it's you, isn't it? Take this berry for example," he said, plucking one of many bright red berries from a branch that hung overhead. Holding it up in front of his face, he squished it between his fingers, letting the watery, rose tinted juice mix with the rain and drip steadily to the ground.

    "Why that one? Well, it could have been any of them, or none at all," he contemplated.

    "But I did pick that one, and only to that berry does it make a difference."

    He meticulously picked the seeds out of the berry's crushed shell, planted them in the ground, and said nothing else.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.