As an unchained melody plays in the back-round a memory streams over me, there is no sound. I'm washing dishes looking out my window my hands sink in the warm water feeling the flow. The window-box spills a profusion of petunias sweet lovely scents, lost in a reverie of ideas. A hummingbird with a ruby throat grazes lightly one flower to the next touching each delicately. I am immersed in the pleasure of this moment, all suds and scent this vision completely transient.

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