who are you, when it is all seemingly a void? do you confront or give in to the self that only emerges in emptiness? or do you become consumed by it, losing the sight of self entirely, for there has never been a definitive you in moments like this?
in capturing these blossoms gracefully—she does not know it yet, but a step towards abolishing imprisoning motifs—ones that dictated nothing pretty would ever come out of her fingers and palms, had already taken place, carved deep and sturdy into the clockworks of Fate
in the wake of recent and unnecessary bloodshed on American soil—one needs to realize, more now than ever, just what a peaceful and tranquil place this sacred land can be. so let us make the best of our intentions to keep it that way