des oeufs

One year ago I found this palm-sized gem of a box, hidden away on a back shelf at the flower shop around the corner. It was a rainy, dim, and dreary San Francisco Saturday, and the the discovery of a forgotten box filled with hand-painted wooden eggs was an epiphanic symphony of so much sudden joy and hope and reverie; The clouds parted. 


It is easy to wallow in despair, to believe there is nothing sweet amongst the sour. But on a forgotten shelf somewhere out there lies a tiny box of Easter eggs, just waiting to be discovered, and within this box lies a new beginning...