Purslane
The rush of footsteps had not yet cooled, and already the road had returned to its own pace. I walked a long way at that pace.
The rush of footsteps had not yet cooled, and already the road had returned to its own pace. I walked a long way at that pace.
At the flower bed at the end of the alley, the place where yesterday's rain pooled still remained. Beside it, a purslane lifted its head. When will the wet ever dry.
Early one morning I saw purslane in the flower bed in front of the supermarket. Tiny pink flowers were blooming, and beside them lay a cigarette butt.