An unknown person gazes over a mended wall, digging deep into their soul, they wonder if yonder, the trees really are greener.
Between two trunks is a nightingale lodged in her nest. She sings seductively, but who’s here to hear, feel and follow?
A sun dial sits alone in a well manicured garden, unobtrusively it tells of the shortening of time: ‘Summer will soon be Fall.’
Anna Bidoonism 