This summer, I bought bubbles to blow sitting in the sun. I love to watch them fly away, carried by the wind.

Bubbles, spherical rainbows, spinning and bursting into tiny explosions.
I played with bubbles the other night.
They were beautiful and full of untold stories, as they danced in front of my eyes.

Life at times loses its sense of reality; it appears to us like a weird, optical illusion – a phantasmagoric bubble that will disappear at the slightest breath

Oscar Wilde, ‘Teleny’

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