Look, I say—look here—at this old placewhere nothing changes.Look at the peoplewho pass by. Look atthe trees. The flowersfull of wanting: lookhow full they are withcolor. Look how they mockus, empty people whomust fill themselveswith changes—emptiness.
“There is nothing to bebut happy. There is nosadness to fall downlike cherry petals.“
The [trees don’t under-stand:]trees they are tootall to see the germof discontent in us.