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AFTERWARDS White blossom breaks from the cherry tree's snow. The opulent branches are over-spent; everything turning to water. We go through the conservatory, sun-filled below the bay tree, whose leaves we snap for their scent. White blossom breaks from the cherry tree's snow. Along the path through fat sunlight we're slow, the creaked-in prints of soles quick to relent-- everything turning to water. We go down to ...