Axes from Château de Brécy stretch from the bottom of a terraced hill in Normandy, France.

Topiary frame my shifting wisdom following the straight path. What is this I see? Walking between the perfectly sculpted vegetation, objects of inspiration begin to blur away as they pass into my periphery. Crisp focal objects like new ideas, which begin pronounced and fine, are now flowing impressions by my sides. As I move, each frame mounts upon the last moment.


I mark significance on each little tree’s geometry, carefully tracing the manicured surface with memories special. Christening honest reflection, new fluxing patterns develop in my mind. With post-spired visions, I witness fleeing moments of wisdom in perfect form.

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