Concrete, wooden branches
Dimension variable
Because I did not grow up close to nature, the earliest flowers I knew were the ones found in ceramics. A pot placed beside a hospital corridor door; several arranged in a ring around a shopping mall fountain; one on each side of a temple entrance; a small vase beside the Guanyin statue on an altar.
Many thoughts pass through gods, nature, and civilization—life and death; spirituality, emptiness, and reality. I do not know why we pluck branches and plant them, inserting them into lifeless concrete. Perhaps we fear that the gods might decide to leave us—abandoning modern civilization and its greedy people. One plants flowers with intention, yet willows grow unintentionally. Should we hope for dead branches to turn miraculous, or is it only a futile trick?
Whether the flowers at the corner are blooming or withering, we always hope for gentleness—something that can help us glide past the harshness of our circumstances.
因為沒有在自然生，故而最早認識的花枝見於陶瓷裡。醫院走廊門邊一盆；環繞商場中庭水池多盆成圈；廟宇左右兩旁各一盆；神壇觀音造像身邊一個小花瓶。
許多念頭穿過諸神、自然和文明。生生死死；靈性、虛空和現實。不諳何故拈來花枝栽種，插在了無生機的石屎裡。猶恐眾神決定離開，離棄近代文明和貪婪的人們。有心栽花，无心插柳。要枯枝化為神奇，還是徒勞的戲法？轉角的花是盛放是凋零也好，總希冀温柔，將壞處境一一滑過去。
