There is something about jasmines. They are small, delicate… and… silent. They say something, only silently. They are fragile yet with dignity. They fall off their shrub in full blossom. If you pick one from the ground, it would still have its beautiful five petals intact and brightly white.
After a long day at school, passing by the villa next to my building was a treat. I used to bend down and pick a few fallen jasmines. Inhale!
Long years of professional life, tiring days. I could no longer bend down to pick the fallen jasmines. Carrying too many things. I draw closer to the shrub and slow my pace. Inhale!
Today, I came back from a very long, stressful-to-a-maddening-extent day at work to find a big winch pulling down the villa. The jasmine shrub defeated and dead on the ground. Breathless!