Oh Spring, thou art the season of {champagne}, uncontrolled growth and unexpected sneezes. Paths unwinding under rebirth's glare, yet tread with care—the path can grow thorns amidst blooming roses.
Scribbles of optimism, scribbled in the margins of destiny.
Each March brings the perennial bumbling of fools—nature herself assures us that chaos dressed in blossoms is still chaos. The earth, too, loves irony; witness the rebellious tulip sprouting through frozen concrete.
Pathways, more tangled than a cat's dreams at midnight.
Spring cleaning? Nay! Spring's an opportunity to hide winter's dust bunnies deeper under the fragile pretense of cleanliness. Tomorrow's allergens await, a symphony of sneezes and sighs.
Consider the elastic seasonal optimism: February's despair now supplanted by March's hopeful delusions. Birds trilling their insipid anthems at ungodly hours, as if the night were their stage.
Explore the Delusions