This morning was neither windy nor humid. Under the bright cloudy sky, I saw a few people striding on the street for their destinations. I took snapshots on the way to the park meeting a few park visitors departing for morning tea. Not knowing the names of the trees, I found those grow before the entrance bloom prosperously, while the other trees inside the park remain stark. Dry and brown winkle foliage hung loosely upon the bear branches while countable number of petals of the blossom in violet and white were swaying to wither, which seems to encounter the vitality of spring. A couple of park regulars were stretching their bodies at the bottom of the viewing platform when I arrived. Cold breeze blew carrying soft drizzles driving them away while I enjoyed the cool serenity left behind. I tried to admit the wired appearance of the tiles painted on potions of the staircase as the angles of my view shifted, for they might look fine, according to the theory of the concave distortion, when all the segments were arrayed to reveal the complete panoramic parkscape. Rain did not fall but people began to pull their hoods on, and perhaps it was time for me to leave.


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