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Written by Lina Ru
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[ The fragrance of my memories was continuous, but what I remembered could be distorted.
It could have been a dream.
Suddenly, I heard a crash. My body got entangled as a rush of raged wind entered the house.
The force took me into its arms, and I flew into the open sky surrounded of…]
A question of blooming,
encountering yourself,
fabricating luminous
colors of hope.
A question of understanding,
creating yourself,
imagining inspirational
moments of love.
A question of believing,
loving yourself,
giving compassionate
strings of action.
A matter of blooming,
creating flowers
out of loners,
out of activists,
out of lovers,
out of pacifists,
out of us.
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