snowflakes and frozen rivulets.

I walked past where someone had spilled hundreds of little puzzle pieces on the cobblestoned road. Stamped into the snow, they lay there as if spilled out of a box, artfully strewn hither and thither. Blue and white and purple flecks, impossible to know the intended picture. A champagne bottle, on its side on top of the frozen canal. Cast aside once quaffed and unable to dent the hard crust. I can just imagine it spinning around when chucked like a never-ending game of spin the bottle. The trees lining the canals are truly bare now. Spare, barren and kind of sad.

The light has altered. Five month ago it was a mournful gleam, waning day by day, weighing on my spirits even more than dawns when there was no light and rain uttered its hopeless patter on the tin roof. Now it becomes noticeably stronger every morning. It’s racing towards spring and I can’t wait. Already the terraces are filling up with hopefuls in the weak sun, practicing looking suave and sultry with their shades. Wunderbar!~

If thou wilt be observant and vigilant, thou wilt see at every moment the response to thy action.

Be observant if thou wouldst have a pure heart, for something is born to thee in consequence of every action.

Rumi


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