Sakura Time
The world stood still at the very moment spring drew its last breath.
On the canvas of the horizon, the sky meets the earth in a misty embrace. The sakura blossoms no longer cling to their branches; they have dissolved into the air itself, as if the trees had decided that their beauty was too light to remain tethered to wood and bark.
Below, in deep earthy tones, the chill of the passing night still lingers. It is the weight of the ground holding onto its memories. But above, where it blends with the color of the morning mist, something new is being born.
It is that second when a petal touches the surface of a lake and, for a brief moment, becomes part of both the water and the sky at once.
Sakura time is not measurable by man’s mechanical toys, nor by the equations of physics.
It is a fleeting sensation—the kind where you close your eyes and still see the glow of the setting sun through your eyelids, while the air carries the scent of something just leaving... something you will remember forever.
