The quiet beauty of ordinary days
Wisteria, Versailles
We pass by, almost by chance. A pathway, a wall, a light a little softer than on other days. And then the scent. The wisteria is there, cascading down, almost too beautiful to be real. We stop. We admire. — Nothing extraordinary. Just a suspended moment. One of those moments you do not notice right away. That makes no sound. Yet remains. — Images are born there. In that simple moment, without any particular intention. Between the light, the gestures, and what passes between them without being spoken. — A few days later, the flowers will fall. But something will have been preserved.
