what we call the beginning is often the end.
and to make an end is to make a beginning.
the end is where we start from.
                                                           - t. s. eliot  

photo credit: film still of the unbearable lightness of being

april is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire

If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

Michel de Montaigne