{"version":"1.0","type":"rich","provider_name":"Acast","provider_url":"https://acast.com","height":250,"width":700,"html":"<iframe src=\"https://embed.acast.com/$/5e1f60b99a47b5450663b683/69cedfdcf44b357ce945ab0e?\" frameBorder=\"0\" width=\"700\" height=\"250\"></iframe>","title":"A Little Bit of Green in Everything","thumbnail_width":200,"thumbnail_height":200,"thumbnail_url":"https://open-images.acast.com/shows/5e1f60b99a47b5450663b683/1775206689641-2dab281c-f3fc-41d4-bdd0-f02bdfc0c17f.jpeg?height=200","description":"<p>(...)</p><p>Adapting the coloured trend to every style sandwiched between flash-like memories, polaroid meteors on the visual map and rhythms, green themselves, and the sunsets as real as a drop of water dripping off the coat of a human being returning home after riding the rain, for the rain.</p><p><br></p><p>Tangible pauses, sandwiched between action and no-action</p><p><br></p><p>No prediction will ever tell you what is to come.</p><p><br></p><p>You open a jar, using the knife with the fine edge</p><p>You feel the ceramics of a gold plated Japanese cup, so light, the whole cup, with empty or full content, made as if light had spread the mud under its weight, making it almost imponderable - the repeatable, repeated muddy mess is what gives the weight its lightness.</p><p><br></p><p>Bundles of good fortune curating existence.</p><p><br></p><p>No one can really tell foundations lie solely on this sort of messy, repeating encounters turned into patterns.</p><p><br></p><p>(...)</p><p><br></p><p>Photo: Personal Archive</p>","author_name":"Ana"}