The soft maroon of the very young leaves of mango tree melted my heart. There is something about the tender life that tugs at the heart. The way these leaves have enveloped the tree is beautiful, like a soft maroon torrent. The slightly warmed breeze carries this ripeness of life. The bitter-sweet fragrance of mango blossoms. Children play around, their firm limbs shining in the evening sun. Even if it is a dream, this world, it is a beautifully crafted dream.
Butterflies dance, my little one watches the orange and red lady birds under a magnifying glass and I dig the Earth with a stick. I feel alive breathing in the fragrance these tiny flowers have released, I look at the brown Earth, this mild talc-like smell of sweet peas has come from this Earth. So many colours, violets, pinks, stark yellows and mild blues all from this dull brown Earth. I fall in love with the little pile of Earth I have dud out. This is the source of all this vibrancy and she has borne me as I am, just like one of these trees or flowers. In what form will she bear me again in her womb, I wonder.
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