Life is a succession of emotions as varied as the colors of a sunset, as different in their similarities as a flower compared to its neighbor. They can grow on the same tree, sometimes on the same branch, and look similar, but we always find something to differentiate them.
But sometimes a flower you will perhaps think of another. A look you into the other eye, of another time. Memory.
Life is a river, sometimes torrential, sometimes calm like a long peaceful river. In its waters, you will come across dead leaves, branches, petals. Tree trunks.
will depend on the season, the weather.
And the likelihood of cross several dead trees grow so conspicuous if you're in a storm.
Do not be surprised if the dams are temporary form, trapped between rocks. It is useless to try to force it immediately, perhaps with time, more gentle waves will dislodge them.
A clenched hand opens slowly, and suggests in his fingers the texture of some wilted petals. In a sweeping gesture, the arm rises into the sky, the recollections of a flower with the wind and take off in a whirlwind rush before fall gently on the surface of the water. An echo is to draw multiple circles which become blurred and then disappear.
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