A photograph

I read the leaves of the plum (tree). I saw the grooves of a extender palm on it

There life and death in the world reads . 
We are almost the same and different of them , trees.

I look at them and they say nothing, but something they have, I can feel them next to me, they’ve got sounds are guardians. In the leaves , then there are the hands , I noticed yesterday, in the afternoon, while my camera was looking something new to be seen. I started reading the stories hidden in the leaves, as they hide in our hands. No one had ever seen them the stories are written there even before I was born, before you were born , he was born . I understood life , I understood love, I understood what no one had ever understood. Leaf says that everything is always closer to what they say. Happiness is that simple. It was all so simple, like a leaf falling from the plum and as it mutates from winter to spring