How silly
How it must have looked from her perspective… to see the nameless arrange pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit; these pieces reflected no complete picture in the end. How silly
that they only expected her to dance when all people were watching, or when no one was watching at all. She realized suddenly that they must be the kinds who did not understand the most beautiful horses were the ones with no name; the silent moments were the best of all. It was strange to her, that people would talk and people would smile and people would just be yet all she could see were fleeting colors, captions of the underlying omnipresent messages which stood for nothing.
As sakura petals the color of morning blush fell, they drew together in a soft pile at her feet. She picked up one foot, after the other, succumbing to a centrifugal force at the center of her being that whispered “dance.” As she spun, she lost a memory at a time, and felt half-happy to watch them leave.
She does not belong to love nor a fleeting moment but to all of love combined- the timescape of all moments which formed a whole and final feeling. In the end, when all is revealed to be absurdity, abstraction, she finds her clearest reflection in the unperturbed sky, in the possibility of recurrence. She whispers hello to the nameless boy and kisses the candy colors around her. She spirals until her fingertips find the edge of the sunset.
finally he complies, “let us waltz into those sakura dreams of which you are so fond.”
