“An ode to loving throughout the journey. To dreaming when winter seems eternal.
The strife in being or the lack of being. Observing self and other through time and growing space…at times, the world unrecognizable, at other times, ourselves. Attempts to holding on to that childlike state of grace and endurance whilst observing the slaughter of flowers. Flowers like beautiful memories, the gardener prunes nature like one does their soul. Frost falls giving the field no choice but to freeze. Dream still of love. Dream still of spring.
Peace. Love. Prosperity.”