I love a patch of grass. Green and fresh.
I could ignore an entertaining game of soccer or rugby to just stare at the grass. I have forgotten to hand in a golf club and a sandwich to my guest as we picnic in the shade, on the grass.
Give me a patch of grass to take a nap on any day and I will consider trading you my bed for a penny. My love for a freshly cut green lawn is massively obsessive and is akin to mild insanity.
It is like a Tempestuous reaction to the most tranquil of things.
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