Red Flowers

In another life, we moved as one in the same direction. We spoke the same language. No possession. No hunger. It was warm. We were the eyes of the sky, we watched and we learned. Laughter. Peace. Hurricane would never look the same, it never hurts, and it never kills. World is an orchestra, the wind sounds like violin and the rain becomes its piano. It was stunning, and we were so happy to be there. Ah, the flowers, it was beautiful. We gather them in our bare hands and smell them. It was mollify. It was all we wanted to be. The time we were complete.

I am a dreamer. You may look inside my mind and you will find nothing but nonsense. My mind jumped to one and another. Again and again and jump again. It pulls each other and hard to control. Sometimes I imagine myself have another life. The place with no sorrow, so different than the world I live. But as winter is only a promise of spring to come, how could we taste the sweetness if we never taste bitter. In another life, I would love to see a land full of flowers. And the grass is soft as morning dew; I could walk with my bare feet and feels the touch of a magical creation.

This moment is perfect to reflect those long waited days. Red flowers upon a black satin. I have mentioned before that I am in love with texture, means I put my eyes on details. I love when a person put herself in her creation. A touch of magic and lot of love. It shows passion. And it surely turns into fineness.

Black top with red flowers - Benang Putih