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Winter Hydrangea

Day 52 ... spring hasn't come yet.

Good evening.๐Ÿ“š๐Ÿงก๐Ÿ“–๐ŸŒ™

๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก

"Winter Hydrangeas" is a poem that literally describes the state of hydrangeas in winter, but it also seeks to portray how easily assumptions can be fostered in everyday life.

ใ€Œๅ†ฌใฎ็ดซ้™ฝ่Šฑใ€ใฏๆ–‡ๅญ—้€šใ‚Šๅ†ฌใฎ็ดซ้™ฝ่Šฑใฎๆง˜ๅญใ‚’ๆใ„ใŸ่ฉฉใงใ™ใŒใ€ๆ—ฅๅธธ็”Ÿๆดปใฎไธญใงๆ€ใ„่พผใฟใŒใ„ใ‹ใซ็ฐกๅ˜ใซ่‚ฒใพใ‚Œใ‚‹ใ‹ใ‚’ๆๅ†™ใ—ใ‚ˆใ†ใจใ‚‚ใ—ใฆใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚

๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก

Winter Hydrangea

"I am exhausted," said she,
Or did I hear her wrong?

The colours, the textures, the veins.

Everything is
Colourless,
Smoothless,
Lifeless.

"I am dead," said she,
Or, did I hear her wrong?

The colours are desert sand,
The textures are weak cracks,
The veins are desiccated mummies.

- Michie Lyne

๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก

ใ€Œ็งใฏ็–ฒใ‚ŒๆžœใฆใŸใฎใ€ใจๅฝผๅฅณใฏ่จ€ใฃใŸ
ใใ‚Œใจใ‚‚ใ€็งใฎ่žใ้–“้•ใˆ๏ผŸ

่‰ฒใ€่ณชๆ„Ÿใ€้™่„ˆ
ใ™ในใฆใŒ
่‰ฒใŒใชใ„
ๆป‘ใ‚‰ใ‹ใงใชใ„
็”Ÿๅ‘ฝใŒใชใ„

ใ€Œ็งใฏๆญปใ‚“ใ ใฎใ€ใจๅฝผๅฅณใฏ่จ€ใฃใŸ
ใใ‚Œใจใ‚‚ใ€็งใฎ่žใ้–“้•ใˆ๏ผŸ

่‰ฒใฏ็ ‚ๆผ ใฎ็ ‚
่ณชๆ„Ÿใฏๅผฑใ„ไบ€่ฃ‚
้™่„ˆใฏไนพ็‡ฅใ—ใŸใƒŸใ‚คใƒฉ

- ใƒŸใƒใƒผใƒฉใ‚คใƒณ

๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก๐Ÿงก

Winter Hydrangea, pastel, M Lyne, 2025.
Winter Hydrangea 

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