Recently, my mom told me how I reacted to joy when I was a child. Aside from the distinguishing smile, I used to add the exclamation: I have a piece of joy within me!
I reckon the saying is a little odd, but then again I wasn't very far from the truth either, for the joy was within me, and only from there could it reach outside of me.
And outside of me I have been finding joys, among which that of receiving an immortal bunch of flowers with buds encrusted with poems.
My heart is weak at the thought of undoing this wonder, so carefully made, but a bud I have managed to unveil. The others are bound by 'to be continued'.