I personally have never been to the Cherry Blossom festival, though by the thought of it can already put me in my imaginative coma. I can be there in the garden bath in the light of that gentle pink blended with soft tranquillity white, so comforting to the eyes and soothing to the soul. Can this be the metaphor of heaven? The truth to how nature had possessed such colour palette that mesmerizes our senses long before any painter learns to use it, is the testament to the existent of a higher intelligent order.
Since I’m no such order, to begin with, I hereby paint it with my humble version of Cherry Blossom from my imagination before I arrive at the festival to witness it myself.