There's also a room for me? But it's hardly the best arrangement, given that
I don't need a room and my stay may pose a fire hazard. Please, an airy fireplace will suit me just fine.

The fire brings down weeds in the field, and the rain lets the seeds germinate. The circle of life is thus completed.

Few things stay the way they are through the long course of time,
but people's spirits will always endure. Wood may turn into coal, and coal may be liquefied into oil, but fire will always be fire.

Sometimes, I wonder, how different am I from candlelight?

Well, another worshiper, hah! Have a seat!

Fire, the sun on earth.

Yes, yes, I can burn some of your problems into ashes, as long as you ... Mmm, don't look at me like that. Do you really believe that Flammy's report card spontaneously combusted
when she failed the test in 9th grade?

Turn on that cuboid box and switch to [FM 8]. There will be sports at 7:30 ... Yes, that's right. We're listening to this one.

You kids should get together and sleep in one big room,
like what we used to do in the caves ... So none of you miss my bedtime story.

I look lighter at the head, you say? Certainly you have an eye for detail. I reckon ... it must be the change in air density.

Oh, many would like to shake my hand, but some of them will unfortunately get burnt for it—do you wish to try?

Hey! It tickles ... let me go! Haha ... I mean it, hahaha ... for real! Ah, you're just like Flammy. She would just jump on me and start tickling. But I would always fight back, you see ... It's my turn now!

Ah ... to tell the truth, I always think of the rainy season at Uluru, when sheets of rain closed in on us like great curtains descending from the above. It took away the heat, washed away the dirt and dust, and left a long snake in seven colors swimming across the sky.

You are saying ... they didn't award you for what you have done?
There must be some mistake! Alright, the Uluru Flame shall honour you with a trophy for your effort in promoting good sportsmanship!

My heart is made of a pack of obsidian gravels which are evenly distributed in 22 layers. They close around this core of mine, keeping it from losing control ... I don't share this with everyone, if you know what I mean.

Yes, I have become friends with your dryer, but I'm not surprised about it. If fire can talk, and apple can sip some wine, why can't a dryer have her wits? Didn't take me long to realize that we are very alike;
both of us like things that are warm and dry.

Fire is versatile. Whether it is sent from the above or taken out from a bigger fire, it is always warm in your chest, flickering like a heart. It is a small sun on a wooden stick, or the engine of a running castle.

Today, the fire burns again, just as I foresaw it in the millions of long dark nights.

Competition first, burning second.

A fair game.

Ready ...

Go!

A neat strike!

So much for warm-ups.

The shower of sparks!

The wheel of flames!

Ablaze!

Fireworks!

Feel it, feel the beating of your hearts!

Ah!

Where are your manners?

Now, a big shout-out to the champion!

The flame goes up higher when more wood is brought to it.

As the flame grows, I will roar.