A picture in 100 words:
Even on that one slender branch, the blossoms were uncountable. Bundled in nameless constellations all the more lovely in their briefness, passersby delighted in these stars of day, freeing entire afternoons to immerse in their simple radiance.
The stone bridge, willing servant to centuries of eager feet, linked all adjacent the olive river: path with path, tree with tree, star with star. Below its curve, the deep water twinkled, surface scattered with celestial dust, as it flowed serenely through springtime.
The day was bright. Beside me, Jude sighed contentedly. We lay on our backs, gazing lazily into the blooming sky.