A lone wild flower gone to seed… on the edge of an urban forest. None of us and no thing is ever really solitary. Even in the midst of solitude we humans are a compilation of billions of cells, each with their own agenda and intelligence. Likewise, our minds are compilations of memory, learning and hope.
Still, the grey November sky and woods, splashed here and there with colour, whispers in the turning of the seasons, that life still continues,