The sun peeks its morning head over the hedges. Summoning the morning glories to rise and open their light to the world. Sometimes, I feel like a tight bulb, curled in on its self, not wanting to expose myself to the world, or
‘you put a spell on me. ‘exquisite corpse drawing bernard dumaine marc gosselin
the sun. Yet, hope seems to beckon me awake, vulnerable and still. I wonder if plants are haunted by dreams, and bad decisions. Do they regret where their roots have been planted? Do they wish they lived else where, or were never born at all? In my observation, they do all they can to reach for the light.. even if it means moving concrete and time. To thrive is their birth right.