This is a corner of my garden, a clump of Yellow Bamboos. ..whenever I want silence, this is my refuge..the Bamboo roots are stubborn, they seldom let anything grow close to them..to me they are like the ghosts of poetry.. or those of thoughts, just itching to be dug out, begging to be understood, without the explanations of why & how...waiting to see a life forgotten..I leave this part untouched, un-manicured. It reminds me that certain things in life don't need to be dressed up..their beauty lies in being brown..the colour that is a part of everyone.
