Your vague heart, your clear eye.

I was absurdly pleased to see this. Someone of subtle sensibility lightly stencilled these ascending saffron hearts on an old wall. The "weed" below them is a Himalayan plant, probably brought back from India inadvertently by the Munster Fusiliers, which has colonised the old stone walls of the city in the past century. It flowers a lavender colour: these vague saffron hearts will thus be seen ascending from a rumpus of purple.
The only adequate response I have to this is Seán Ó Ríordáin's poem, "Ní Ceadmhach Neamhshuim" the deepest response I know to the startling immediacy of the beauty of the world.
I shall return to this until the Himalayan weeds bloom.