Ephemeral, we all sadly-luckily are.

Barely a week since I shoot these flowers. The colour faded, the petals withered and fell then. So as we are.

Milan Kundera stated in [The Unbearable Lightness of Being] that a life which disappears once and for all, which does not return, is like a shadow, without weight, dead in advance, and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or subline, its horror, sublimity and beauty mean nothing. The myth of eternal return.

But no, I stepped forward from the lay-back post and know for sure that my very own life is heavy and beautiful for its transience and non-recurrance.

I gonna live long enough to taste it real. Thx to people who care about my health. Especially my beloved sister Lea.