I remember when i was of the age of one digits, going to school in the city, it was always bustling and i was short. Yet even in the craze of the city sounds there were these outside teris style pots near the sidewalks, attached to the buildings still made of French design from when they ruled this land.
Most days as i headed to the bus parking area to go home I’d run my hands through them, a child, all the sounds of the city would fade away and all that was left was the tender silky feel of these beautiful leaves under my young fingertips as a ran and skipped by. (Yep, i used to skip through the down like i owned the place.) I'll really have to continue getting more pictures of the different colours of them and share with you.
Those were rarely white; they were usually brighter colours, likely to catch the eyes of the tourists. They got my eyes too. I love it when you relearn how to love something that never went away in the first place.
Has that ever happened to you, remembering how to appreciate something?
Peace. Love. Youth.