flâneur

it is your birthright to be devastated. - Ars Poetica

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you must have enough courage to love life one more time, and always to love life one more time.

dear little voice, perhaps you have thought, until now, that the natural bud of the Tree is green— and the gorgeous kind: Edenic green, like with apples and like rosy, like with birdsong, with happiness: like with crisp, unguarded happiness, and the Sun like a fleshy ray that laughs and lures her from her branch in Spring. e.e. cummings, Metamorphosis. perhaps you have thought, little voice, that the winter Tree is a dead, waiting thing: a scarce sketch of patience. an empty thing ungladdened and waiting for Sun. perhaps you have considered the Winter Tree to not be a Tree at all. perhaps…

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