a metaphor of our own
as the fleeting butterfly beats its own wings
so does the heaving chest expand and contract
moving the same air
in and out
sending it forth
all the triumphs, all the failures
let them all be sources of wonder
let it be
flowers are like women.
beautiful, capricious, resilient yet fragile and fugitive.
their smell can make a man forget the world and all its troubles.
no matter how cliché you may find them, i will never get tired of regarding them, of admiring their beauty.
and they will never fail to bring me happiness.
like i said, flowers are like women.
a san francisco sunrise. beams of light burst through the thick fog, illuminating the bay. the pacific ocean gently laps golden waves in the sand. the brave runners face the cold and go for their morning jog at chrissy field past the marina. the emblematic palace of fine arts provides just the right touch of sublime at the edge of the presidio. beyond it, the charismatic neighborhoods slowly begin to awake: cow hollow, russian hill, north beach, the financial district, union square, and soma beyond. just a few of the memorable places that make this city an unforgettable place.