Answer:
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
The more of them you take, the more you leave behind. What are they?
Take off my skin, I won't cry, but you will.
I am black when I am clean and white when I am dirty?
Two little holes in the side of a hill. Just as you come to the cherry-red mill.
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?