Bubbles

This summer, I bought bubbles to blow sitting in the sun. I love to watch them fly away, carried by the wind.

Bubbles, spherical rainbows, spinning and bursting into tiny explosions.
I played with bubbles the other night.
They were beautiful and full of untold stories, as they danced in front of my eyes.

Rainbows and poetry, that’s what the world needs.

Life at times loses its sense of reality; it appears to us like a weird, optical illusion – a phantasmagoric bubble that will disappear at the slightest breath.

Oscar Wilde, Teleny