Limed: fermented, not forgotten

I had a couple of aesthetic experiences with limes recently,

the first having spent a good amount of time in a fridge, the second in Sangria.

below, in their distinct graces . . .

 

S P A C E : a typeface

 

The fullest words are woven with silence . . . 

What makes a letter? 

The height, breadth of strokes?
Or the area that surrounds it?

Naturally, they need one another. 

The Nothing that hugs every vulnerable edge of the Something, giving it form. 

Yet how often are we mindful of that space . . . of silence?

Our world brims with things. Unless we’re cognizant of the pause 

between the stuff

we’re left with something not worth reading—illegible chatter

We need space to break up the monotony of form.

And what if we could learn to focus on that space?
 

How would our perception of the world change?

What would we find?