first flowers of spring

walking to an appointment down a trafficky one-way street, the click of your shoes going as fast as you can to make up for no bus service when you needed it, the last thing you expect is to stop dead in your tracks, frozen, for a good three minutes. time stands still, the appointment will wait, you have sudden, certain clarity. this, on the other hand, will not wait. this is the most beautiful thing you can't imagine seeing in this precise moment in the middle of the city- the peeking over-the-top fullest of full blossoming plum tree that yearns to be seen, really seen. and so there you are, stopped next to the stopped cars, in a trance, a mutual gaze of deep and quiet love. just you, and it. blackest black of line-y thin branches pop out at you through the subtlest disappearing softness of the whites, matched perfectly to the soft-dirty whites of the wall. you take a picture only then because you wish this could last forever. and the three minutes standing still are your infinity.