Sometimes I hate nature. Yes, indeed I do. I hate its simplicity, its harmony, its perfection. I hate how simple it is its reason to be. How simple its beauty and its awesomeness and then how hurting and painful when spring is rushing and approaching impregnating it all of colours and sweetness on its way. Apparently, nature is just nature but, as my dear writer Arthur Golden wrote, "when we feel pain, even the blossoming trees seem weighted with suffering to us..."(On the right: a homemade picture of the blossoming Acassia sp. tree in my garden)
Alessia Garnet.
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