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I first heard this Sufi Poem when a friend wrote a play about it a few years ago.

The past has flown away,
the coming month and year do not exist
Ours only is the present’s tiny point.

Today, I’m doing my best.  It is a moment to moment struggle.  I am in a good place with thesis, with work, everything, yet difficult not to be thinking about my colorful future and how it will translate into life’s work.  I know nothing is permanent , everything passes in time, and time is not standing still for me or anyone.  It’s a lovely Spring day and the world is full of opportunity.

So I did what I know how best to: distract myself by looking on the internet for inspiring photos.  Although not a fan of flowers (I’d take an Italian Vogue over flowers any day) I found these from Boysen Paints that are delightful, and clearly are having a grand time in their “present’s tiny point.”  What is cool about these flowers, is that they, again work with the category that I’m been posting so much about: fake is the new real- or is real the new fake? Reality is but our own, and in constant shift or in need of redifining.

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