Rites of passage.. or something.

You know those days, when everything just comes together, feelings feel the way they should, the soft breeze dances in your hair and time seems to stand still with reflections on what was, what wasn't and what never will be. And what will be.

Today was almost one of those. It started out that way, with amazing sunshine (and a little jogging trip), clouds of pink cherry petals on the trees and individual ones whirring to the ground, accummulating to create pink streams along the edges of the roads. Families walking their dogs, couples lying on the grass - everybody on the move in a most leisurely and content way.

I'm not sure if it was the setting or the fluctuating times we're all passing through, but a couple of brave and liberating acts down the road, things that should perhaps have remain unsaid have come to life, and the potential consequences are in a jarring contrast to the idyllic surroundings. A feeling of unrest remains with me yet, but the liberating kind, the one that can grow to become something beautiful, if given time to expand to its full potential.

London:PINK

Springtime, clear blue skies and the soft touch of a sun ray on your cheek. Ahh!


BTW. I've only recently begun wearing pink comfortably. As far back as I can remember, the color pink was a cause of great dispear. My mom would try to dress me in all sorts of pink garments, and I would object as loudly as I could and in the most obnoxious way possibly. I in particular recall a pink corduroy oshkosh b'gosh overall dress that would cause a tearful fit whenever she brought it to the fore. Now, I think it would be absolutely adorable for a 4-5 year old... Does that give me reason to not have kids of my own? I mean, being so disconnected from even my own experiences as a kid, how would it ever turn out should I (in due time, mom, don't get excited - there's no hidden agenda in this!) manage to spawn some?