There’s a hint of you in this early summer wind here in late april. Maybe I’m just synchronizing with the patterns of space and time. Every spring I find the love of my life. It’s in you for sure and it’s packed so well. I don’t dare to use the word beautiful anymore. It might loose its meaning. None the less you are unbelievably unique. At least in this moment in my head. You have sparked something, not a feeling, but deeper. The everlasting search for man’s meaning. You are what every man dreams of. What every boy keeps a secret to his childhood love. What every husband never finds in his wife. Sometimes an idea, sometimes quite real, but always dangerous to adhere to. I might have to lock you away with my other teenage fantasies some day. But until then, I will find you, my flower, each spring like a honeybee.