Like Italo Calvino, who wrote about cities that never were, I too write. It is about our reality.
Sometimes a living thing appears and it is a miracle that it stands at all.
It stands for a very short time indeed, when there is no wind of course, without too many sets of eyes to look at it, and only a few hearts to flutter breathlessly.
Sound familiar? Maybe not?
Don’t fight, people. There is no real victory. Let your claims fall to empty space.
The city council (in the city that is a flower) is in a meeting. For now there are no results.
The grey cloud examines the degree of truth in what the piece of sky expressed.
The castle is simply pointing up while the ochre looks down with penetrating eyes. The green agrees to disagree.
But there is nobody to listen anyway. The city is too delicate for this. The city is a flower. The city is created by a mind that’s only joy.
Don’t fight, people.
Accept defeat on the level of the argument, because you cannot win.
Hug your doubts about what is possible
And dive into the deeper space
That is right here.