

Under the shadow of tree,
Orchid remains to insist her flourishing.


I should drift, I should blow,
To my love,
Like snowflake,
To die on his lips that are warm.




These floral art are arranged by friend---Mr. Chevy Liu, Chevy is learning
the floral art of Inkenobo, these works are his practice for the first grade of
teacher certificate.
The tranquil spirit are diffused through its elegant aspect, such atmosphere
is needed, especially for cooling down a turmoil heart during the hot season..............

You walked through the shadow of the champa tree
to the little court where you say your prayers,
You would notice the scent of the flower,
But not know that it came from me.......
~~Rabindranath Tagore~~

This book (written by Avery Gilbert) let me know many things regarding
sense of smelling, which is a fantastic journey I have never been. It reminds
me to pay more attention on the odors. Have you smelled the scent of rain?
I do. It is hard to describe, something like a mixture of humidity, dust, and
grass, it always shows up in the meantime of rain oncoming. The scent owns
the power to evoke memories to change our moods and influence our behavior,
such as, I feel relaxed and delighted upon the coffee aroma spreading in the air;
the scene of summer night in childhood suddenly flash upon smelling the scent
of tuberose; smelling the firecracker burned always triggers the happy memories
about Chinese New Year.
Loving the scent of flower, flowers talk to world in scent instead of language,
she always whispers in silent, to spread her voice by wind. However, the
scent of flower is easy to dissipate, so people make the perfume to try to
keep it for more time. A little bit perfume put on body is great, but a lot of
perfume will be a disaster. In addition to the scent of flower, I love the
aroma of food----fry garlic, stew meatball in red wine sauce, roast fish
with rosemary, mature passionfruit……..How wonderful they are!
I think that will be less fun if people cannot smell anymore.



Grape Vine crawls on the gray grounds,
Sucking…… breathing………waiting……..
To grow up…….to fruit………
Only to praise for the great Dionysus.


“Hope” is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops-at all
~~Emily Dickinson