花開花落：The reverie of mono no aware...
Breathing out their swansong. “A flower is perfect, when it is almost old.” An old favourite photograph I took of a rose bouquet I brought home. After having balleted through their beautiful efflorescence, these softly rouged petals dreamed their eventual, eternal slumber scattered upon my piano.
Poetry in the melodies of Eudaimonia’s sigh of bliss.
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