“Beauty in Decay! . . I cannot rest easy in the rush of the hour, where voices echo sharp as machines, and the headlines knit a web of ash, steel, and sorrow. Last evening, in a restful orchard, I found an old tree split by storms. Its hollow cradling a single blossom, pale and trembling in the dusk. I left it untouched, its fragile defiance far brighter than the glow of any city's burning light.”