tavasz means spring in hungarian. I don't know its etymology, but I know it's in there. Just as I know in my bones that the spring deity is upon me here.
My family sat in the concert hall to watch the magic flute. At intermission I hear magyar from the couple in front of me. I ask them if they are hungarian. It's an encounter I seek out nearly everywhere.
It's a touching. Just enough said that quickens my step.
A flurry of creativity, in the wild mind as well as the loins, the center of being.
Savor this, I say to myself, it won't last. No doom in this. Simply, I know heavier clouds and dust, and they return.
Shipping work off to NYC momentarily. Show opens June 1 at George Billis.