Yesterday’s post included a number of photos of cherry blossoms. I almost included this one, but it wasn’t quite right, so I played with it until I got something I really liked. At that point, it didn’t seem to fit with the more natural shots, so I decided to give it a post all its own.
The blossoms look to me like they’re made of porcelain, but that is not why this image strikes a chord. It stirs in me a feeling of a memory just about to be remembered, but floating just below consciousness. I can’t conjure what the image reminds me of so I am left with that uneasy, tip-of-the-brain, can’t quite recall, but I know it’s a pleasant memory. Staring. Thinking. No, only unanchored nostalgia.