“For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns.

For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it’s not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It’s not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It’s no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he’d doing – that isn’t important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that’s enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself ‘My flower’s up there somewhere…’ But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it’s as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn’t important?” (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince)


Sometimes we look at something and our mind creates another image.
When I saw this rusty explosion of red and blue that is exactly what did happen to me.
I saw a flower and thought about the Little Prince telling his story about a special flower to his friend.
I hope you will like both: the rusty and decayed abstract I leave you for today and the excerpt from the Little Prince, a really beautiful book I recommend.

(Day 124/365)