there are interchangeable moments that appear periodically in life, where the eyes are always closed, the sun is always out, spring is almost here, and the only sound of either wind or sea. I wonder, when my eyes open, where in time I will be, and almost always expect it to be other than the one it actually is.
There is a purple flower that grows between the flagstones in Umbria. It blossoms every morning in the direction of the rising sun, and turn along the stars axis, shadowing her slow progression through the sky. Observing this flower is like believing in god. My petal folded eyes hunt the warmth,