OF ESSENCE AND CHARM
The holy colors and sounds that the place had evoked since my early childhood, are not there any longer. It used to be a mixture of intensity, life and symmetry that, though paradoxical, could take you by surprise. Such paradise, out of the concrete pavement that surrounded you, brought a sense of relief and, at the same time, excitement. I don’t doubt neither that this aura still remains where it used to be, nor that the majority of the visitors have the same experience. I, simply, don’t feel that way anymore. The essence of the flowers isn’t as fierce, the charm of the dragonflies becomes threatening. There is something different. Perhaps it is a mist or a veil that covers the atmosphere. Perhaps the colors aren’t as opaque, rather paler. Perhaps the ink that powered the shine of the flowers has dried for an instant. The acanthus, gorgeous maroon flower, looks washed-out. I have been here, I reckon, but have I? Entering the maze lost, anxious, alone, but in the good way -because