Sometime Somewhere

Day in and day out, sun rises and sun sets, you have your, and I have my stories, and the same story may be interpreted differently at different time.

I see the same thing as I hike along, and "there may be nothing new under the sun, what is old is new to us and so rich and astonishing that we never tire of it".

I always have a brief stop at my secret corner looking at the bees zipping about from one flower to another. The same porter weeds that I used to see appeared differently this morning.

They seemed to dance under the state of stillness; wind was not blowing, the only thing that is blowing is time itself.

I tried to search through my old photography archive; I should have taken the pictures of a tree sometime ago.

I remember it was never as naughty as now to show a Playboy logo at its very top; but I failed to prove that my memory is good finally.

That tree may change again sometime later . Sometime later I'll definitely change, and so you will.