Come back, come back sweet ephemeral thoughts. Acclimated to this weather, warm beside this open window. The flowers erect in the glass vase, and a breeze stirs the well patterned cloth.
The gravitas of the line that is flat at the bottom of the page, a line of blue that holds everything up. A kind and generous line upon which to set the philosophy. Set it there upon the table. And bring the tea.
The aroma of that oohlong tea. It is a fine blend. In a good Chinese cup it sits there and enlightens this whole room. And the people over there talking. Don’t they say the most marvelous things?
I wonder what they are talking about … and yet it fascinates me. This room. These diaphanous curtains. That bird over there, singing. The flowers that are still blooming even in the vase. And the crystal in which they sit that fastens the light upon the table and makes the wood shine very hard and solid.
Now then, this is all so wonderful. I am laughing and crying. And which is more suitable? And cry with laughter and laugh through these tears. And they water the flowers before the sun comes through the curtains again.
Like that. We talk nonsense here, yet see how it makes the baby laugh.