Life looked good enough to eat walking through Central Park in almost-spring. Gazing up ¬†up up into this ethereal sight made me agitated because how to describe it without resorting to every cliche ever written. But then why describe it, why not let the photo stand for itself? Or going further, why not let the ephemeral moment exist for itself instead of my camera? But everyone that day was gawking as if the trees in bloom were celebrities caught by our papparazzi lenses. Greta comes out of seclusion! Jackie O takes a walk! Spring sighted in Central Park! And I suspect some of the people taking photos weren’t even tourists like me, but city slickers who let down their sophistication long enough to be star struck by the earth birthing itself again.

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