by Mei-mei Berssenbrugge

    I did not know beforehand what would count for me as a new color. Its beauty is an analysis

    of things I believe in or experience， but seems to alter events very little. The significance of a bird

    flying out of grapes in a store relates to the beauty of the color of the translucency of grapes.

    There is a space among some objects on a table that reminded her of a person， the way the bird reminded her，

    a sense of the ideal of the space she would be able to see. Beauty can look like this around objects.

    A plastic bag on a bush， moving slightly， makes an alcove， a glove or mist， holding the hill.

    Time can look like this. The plane of yourself separates from the plane of spaces between objects，

    an ordered succession a person apprehends， in order to be reminded.