No One Spoke

No one spoke.
The host,
The guest,

Nor the white chrysanthemum.

— Oshima Ryota (1718-1787)
White Chrs.
 

2 thoughts on “No One Spoke

  1. It took my breath away. It was a body blow and a caress at the same time. I was transported. It was a window to another world. A quiet painting. I felt as if I was the guest in the haiku, surrounded by unimaginable silence. I revered the host. I felt welcomed into a world I had never known.

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