Sometimes, you do things you shouldn’t.
It starts out innocuously enough.
You’re sitting in your garden, enjoying the melodious green, the calm birdsong, the dappled light, time floating instead of hurrying and harrying.
Then you see that flicker of light out of the corner of your eye.
You think: a bug, a butterfly. So you tell yourself until you see it again, and again.
Then, without realising it, you’re on your feet, trying to catch the flicker.
You spin around. Just a couple of times. But it’s enough to send things… tilted, askew, lopsided – in the most undefinable of ways. It’s still your garden, but it’s also not.
You realise vaguely that your garden is full of unfamiliar realms of light and green and being.
Then you are find yourself faced with a wall of komorebi, calling, inviting you in.
Will fear flail hard at common sense and call you back?
Or will you enter?
Backstory: Inspired 100% by this pic I took on the weekend. I photoshopped it in my photoshop express app to bring out the magic of the light.
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