Hundreds of cottons are hanging up just to keep the grey and heavy layer of atmosphere away from us, for days and days this job is so tiring, so they sweat a lot, and their wall would sometimes collapsed. The conflict we won't see, those sweats we won't appreciate, we take it as a normal phenomena.
I can see muscles and energy in the sky, between the white and grey. Sadly though, there is no signs of hope up there, no color. When is the last time you look at the color of nature anyway? At the very beginning, we all living under a world of painting and printing. Why are we so amazed by the nature that's so pretty? Why every time we need to capture it down as a memory? We simply forgot we were belonged here.
For the whole week, I am swimming inside my dream. Just like when you finally put yourself on the greatest landscape ever dreamt, surrounded by the tallest woods and big grean leafs. Colors and warm reaching you from every direction. Everything is so clear and brilliant, anywhere gives you energy and one kind of desire. You feel yourself melting to tiny droplets, or a waterfall, so you can become part of them, and create a beautiful and essential sound of nature.
This is basically what I feel to be with Anne, what I liked to be.
(Rare article that describe light and satisfaction)
