Daily story, February 18, 2025

At the very centre of each sunflower was a liitle black eye, like a camera lens. At first I thought they really might have been cameras. There are cameras in everything these days. But they weren’t. Just the sunflowers, taking an interest. They no longer turned to face the sun. They turned to face passing cats and pretty faces and each other. They turned to read the words on the signs and graffiti and billboards. They watched everything we did, for a week or two, and then they turned away.