Deep in the classical galleries of the Vatican there lies a statue of a male torso which we were told was of great inspiration to Michelangelo.
The torso moves in muscles:
hints of male love with
fulfilment in stone.
The patterns of our memory are shaped by vivid moments which we can recall like photographs even though the surrounding events are lost to us. Photographs trap moments of time and in a different way so do haiku. Both can be distillations of truth;both fascinate me.