The tides swallow the streams, the solid land disappears beneath the water – but the sun connects it all. Spotted within this setup of constant change, tiny beings who themselves last for far less time than the soil or the waters or the rocks, yet oddly, believe in or aspire to permanence. This is the vibrant song that fades before the sun sets and rises even once. This is the exuberant flash in the pan. This is the passing breath of fickle beauty. This is the winter sun.