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Writer's pictureAlice

Oops...

Ok, so I'm a little bit behind on my blogs recently, as my phone died in a rather spectacular fashion yesterday. It turns out, it hadn't won its battle against the car wheel as much as I had first believed. For the last three days it had appeared as though it barely had a scratch, but suddenly in the middle of writing yesterday's blog, it lit up in a splendour of technicolour, flickered and went out like a candle.


So here I am, catching up on the blogs from the last few days, on a cranky old iPod made in 1885. First, I will start with the post I was halfway through yesterday, about the international flower festival of Seoul. This was incredible, one of the most unique experiences I have had anywhere in the world. In a place like this, it seemed strange that flowers bloom and wilt in silence, for the whole place felt alive with vibrant conversation. Each colour spoke to another, each flower placed perfectly in line with those around it.

And that was just the grounds. Inside the culture centre was the most amazing array of flower art and sculptures. Man made structures, engulfed in the wild ferocity of nature, yet looking so soft with the petals draping from them. From an entwined tree which branched off into pink and purple flowers hung from the ceiling with candles to light up each bud, to tiny microcosms built into plant pots, whole worlds made in miniature, like something from thumbalina.


And when it got dark enough, and the lights came on, it was like being swept into a world full of electric energy, where orbs of anbaric warmth hung from great swirls in the sky, and green stalks sprung from the ground in bright green luminosity. Little jets of colour sprung forth from a giant mushroom in the garden, and a pathway strung with the tiny bulbs of fairy lights led the way to a great bridge where the water wheel churned in sparks of gold and silver. I found my self hoping that all of the nights in the future would be this bright.


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