Tredegar Square on a July weekday morning.
Impressions: Layers of green, sssshhhh of wind through the leaves, yellow sunshine, twirly benches. Trees captured in plots of padlocked railings. Large dragonfly swooping about, sneezing from the clouds of pollen and falling leaves, busy bees, distant siren, snatches of one-sided phone conversations.
Question: What is precious enough to you to padlock up? An object, a thought, a hope or dream?
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