Following the lime-green petals of a zinnia, we go around the circle of life.
Whorls of spinning repetition, repeated rows of endless segments – they all lead back to before.
Somehow, though, we have never been here.
The cycle of a year is a similar journey.
Here is the spring, followed by the summer.
Here is the fall, coming before the winter.
And here we arrive at the spring again.
It’s the same but somehow different, and it always feels new, no matter how many times we go around.
