I apologize for posting a photograph very similar to one I posted not too long ago, but it is perhaps a happier treatment of the same subject matter. Sometimes the things that make me the saddest give me the most joy, and the things that should make me happy reduce me to tears.
Like the 19th century European conservatory pots in the background, I am a little cracked, flawed.
I hold them up to the light sometimes, ponder their scuffed exteriors, run my fingers across the worn French words so carefully engraved. What life these pots have held, what tiny dreams they have nurtured, what memories they stir. Another life, another time. Indeed.
Music of the day: Haligh, Haligh, a Lie, Haligh by Bright Eyes (lyrics)