She was convinced that the existence of certain things i.e. the velvety texture of a rose, appear because of an excess of information in reserve. She refused to believe that beauty and strangeness in nature come into being by the inevitable cause of things or better because of such laws as those of survival, competition or attraction. She insisted that there was something more profound in her own theory. For her, beauty in nature was instead a sort of turn from the possibility of becoming, or even the desire towards a miraculous event. Beauty was enigmatic because its occurrence seemed to have happened by default.

That Sunday morning, she sat on the veranda and kept observing the plants that spread wide across her. You could tell they would hardly suck in any water, since the heat of such summer days usually left the ground bare and dry. The extreme state the soil had reached that day, clearly reduced the possibility for anything to succeed in altering the soil’s current state. ‘If I shortly let water run through, I wonder what will come first, evaporation or absorption?’. She concluded that such an attempt was most probably not viable and perhaps testing it out was a waste of time. I guess she must have been greatly entertained with such thoughts in those early hours of July, meanwhile the disturbing news of her husband’s late arrival were yet to come.

H.E July 2006