Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens

Spores come alive. Colour bursts. Form appears. Smells ripen. The forest moves. The mountains rise in peaks, then plateaus. You thread on blooms. Bird song comes to swallow the silence. Nothing is still. Noting rests. Shadows chase the sun’s cycle. Ferns curl and unfold. More blasts of colour pierce, plunder and pillage the eyes. You feel it on your skin. Up your nose. Under your clothes. The flowers unveil their canopies of delight. Life knows itself here. Life give birth, to life.
So much it is almost too much.
Woah, let me breathe it in.



Kirstenbosch