Just yesterday, over at Cardnial Guzman’s, I noticed a very interesting challenge that completely had me going if it weren’t for the high temperatures here in Delhi. It’s hitting 40 C and it’ll only get worse. But then I remembered this particular photograph. This was taken on my recent trip to Chandigarh (I’ve posted pictures from it here, here, and here), and I had to post it.
You see, the mood is somber; melancholy really. Things happened that I’d rather not recall. There’s a sense of loss and that’s about it. But, this too shall pass.
Here’s a photo from my recent trip to Chandigarh that strikes a chord.
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
– Robert Frost; Birches
Stretching, twisting canary petals
continued, conquering all. Imagining
The Promised Land
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light.
And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.– Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Sensitive Plant
Faces Places Paces 