Her voice finds resonance in a pool of positive thoughts, makes the surface vibrate, stirs up the calm, lets pass all trouble. If ever I am to hold that privilege, to see her more often than not, I need to become acquainted with the environment that makes for such beauty. For I could not forgive myself would I pick this flower and bask in its beauty, too egotistical to see that under my influence it withers away. May it change my life in a thousand positive ways, I cannot pick it if I cannot tend to it as it deserves. Forever broken would my confidence be, were I to betray what I loved. So delicate its petals, so coarse the gardener’s hands. To take care of it and let it bloom, some lotion is needed to make these hands a man’s.

When soft-spoken words falter at the slightest touch, when silence and the beauty of an iris can fill an entire moment… when everything stands still and I am torn between holding on and moving forward, life is lived and the air is filled with the smell of colours. Cherry blossoms. Pink. Fresh and distinct. Live on and make this spot so infinitely more bearable, and the idea of beauty in this world may become credible.

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