Towards the end of the day yesterday I marvelled at the extreme blue of whatever flowers those were outside Nordstrom’s, Love-in-a-Mist maybe, the kind that used to inhabit my old garden and re-seed themselves each year; an intensive course of blue like an intensive language course, full submersion in color instead of in words, letting one’s whole idea of the world, one’s very being, be shaped by the medium of expression—in this case that blue.
It was a moment of gladness in the ongoing sameness of the chilly rain, the otherwise again gray day. Love in a mist literally.
It was a moment of gladness in the ongoing sameness of the chilly rain, the otherwise again gray day. Love in a mist literally.
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