There is something absolutely stunning about sun streaming through leaves, putting their veins and scars on display, leaving them naked to onlookers, transparent. Maybe it’s because you’re blinded, but the spring sun leaves a certain hypnotic quality with its onlookers. Even the pavement seems to sparkle with the climbing warmth. The breeze drifts through, prickling the hairs on your arm to remind you of the winter, but everything, down to your bones, is warmed with a sense of comfort at its departure. Bare skin is pricked by blades of grass, itchy from newly born bugs that creep towards the sun themselves. Colors everywhere, pastels–soft and gentle, but luscious. Everyone awakens. The world is welcoming again.