I guess I am a romantic person because the sunflower became my organising principle. A central point of reference kicking into existence a maze of its own. Stretching itself out in front of my eyes and beyond. Conjoined my one thought with that of another and my one action with the previous and the following. As if it is lurking in every corner of my reality, both imagined and lived. How did it happen? I think of a book I read a while ago. It is about a woman that believes her cat to be God. She wondered if that’s how it works; you first have to make up a God before you encounter it? Is that what happened? I had settled upon the sunflower as mine. Elevated her to the level of the divine. Ascribing it the power to stir me in all directions. My eyes and feet included. Perhaps.
