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"Fold your arms round me close and strain me so that our hearts may break and our souls go free at last. Take me to that happy place of which you told me long ago. The fields whence none return, but where great singers sing their song forever."
Joseph Bedier, The Romance of Tristan and Iseult
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 It happened long time ago in a country that never existed. A happy country whose only inhabitants were gods of all sorts. Filled with insatiable longing for beauty, the almighty gods resolved to create a flower, a perfect flower, far more beautiful than all the flowers thriving in the endless and colourful meadows of the country. Surprisingly, the realisation of the dream appeared to be impossible, as the divine designers could not work out the shape for that perfect flower. All suggested forms fell short of their expectations. They were all too inferior. The initial enthusiasm slowly morphed into doubt and then despair, which had never been favourite emotions among gods. Suddenly, one of them cried that he had seen an ideal shape they might copy. It was...
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AuthorI was destined to be born gardener. In order to become a professional one I had to enjoy years of studying at various schools and universities... read more Archives
May 2017
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