Spring is in the air. A cool breeze sways the trees into a synchronized dance. The rays of the sun are marigold orange that it hurts the eye. The green radiance of fresh new leaves sparkles in the light. The iridescent flowers lie carelessly strewn on the roads. There is a gallop in one's stride, a shine in one's skin and a smile on one's face. The days are warm and sunny and the evenings pleasant and fine. This is the perfect weather for long walks and long-winding conversations. It is the season of vitality and mirth, not to mention love. The decay and detritus of winter's aftermath gives way to a youthful abundance. The earth conspires in shedding the old and embracing the new. In this time of quiet observation, i sit by the balcony and write silly posts, for what is spring without a little hope?
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