Lady with a fan

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She stood with a fan in her hand, her gaze reaching far beyond the fence.

She filled the museum room with grace and poise – a silent contrast to the visitors, all smart phone at hand rushing by, their short attention span turning stillness into boredom.

I was absorbed by her grace. I never asked myself any questions about what she may have been thinking. There was no need.

I stood there, wishing for her serenity to touch me. And as the visitors withered away, it did. I hope it touches you as well.

Kenza.

A photo I took of “Lady with a fan” by Fei Danxu (China, 1801-1850), ink on paper, hanging scroll, Qing Dynasty – on display at the Shanghai Museum. 

The chrysanthemum

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Long after all the flowers have faded

the chrysanthemum blooms alone.

Under grey skies, amidst the first frost,

its petals flutter with the wind from the north.

And yet, it is not November

but the month of May.

And yet, it has graced me with its beauty,

its fragrance filling my lonely heart.

Kenza.


Photo taken at home today of a bouquet of chrysanthemum. It was a gift from my nine year old son who knows I love this flower because it dares to bloom alone.