In the early days of the last month of spring, the cherry tree in the garden blossomed, announcing the birth of a child. In the last days of the first month of the summer, the blossoms that had now become red beautiful cherries, spoke about the death of someone who was once full of life. In less than a second, death had embraced her so tightly in his arms that not even the red cherries could bring the color back to her cheeks.
Here is how the story goes: “She went to pick a cherry when in a moment, between being or non-being, death conquered life.”
Images. Pooneh Mojtaba, Jorit Aust