It feels ancient and important and defiant and full of stories.
Bamboo has such grace and awkwardness and unlikeliness. This golden surface with its blue-gray scars and memories seems valiant to me. Maybe bamboo is appealing like giraffes. Extreme thinness and ungainliness without being clumsy. Awkward isn’t the same as clumsy. ‘Awkward’ has some shyness and hesitancy and sensitivity that ‘clumsy’ doesn’t?