Sunday, December 17

  • The overripe pomegranate splattered on the asphalt, ruby red seeds like guts, the dried out rust colored husk.

  • The sun hitting the edge of the hedge circling the playground, the yellowing leaves of the tree, and the bright green-yellow of the workmen's vests

  • The instinct for friendship seems to be hardwired into the brain, but also  the fear of too much closeness. Y. met a littel boy in the playground, and both immediately began reaching their hands out towards each other, delicately touching fingers. Yet when he got closer, she retreated and started to cry.
  • The pamelleto leaves spread out like fans or parasols overhead. One has turned yellow and orange, and glows like a fire in the sun. 


  • a diagonal of wild white cyclamens cutting through the heart shaped leaves.

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