AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

To escape the horrible food of the cafeteria I decided to flee my building and retreat to the slighly less horrible food of Subway. As soon as I walked outside I was reminded how fast spring weather in Washington D.C. can change - during the course of the day the sun had warmed up the weather so that only a cool breeze was evidence of the cold and brisk morning. Outside the trees that were so barren just a couple of months ealier had come to life. If I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, I could remember the branches when they were saturated with flowers that were so pink and so red that only poets could emblish their beauty properly. But now the transformation has been complete and I could only see the healthy greens of life. And new life too, for the seedlings were propellering their way down to the earth as only the whirlybird seeds can do. It was then that a breeze blew by me and the thousands of seedlings that were resting on the ground turned their fragile and light bodies over making a small pitter-patter against the pavement. If snow is the sound of silence and rain is the sound of water, than certainly this is the sound of change. It was as if a dry rain had surrounded me and let me know, in it's own subtle way, that things would never be the same. And things would be okay.