Flowers are things of beauty – so wild, free, and spontaneous. To be overcome by their fragrance is a kind of distant, forgotten joy. Their scent is found within but is never walled off. As we enjoy the air we breathe, so too, does the flower. Each variety exudes a certain timeless naked practicality that surges forth from their silent eyes, offering an intimacy disclosed only within the stricktest anonymity, revealed with a quiet incisiveness in tones devoid of excess. Though some remain haunting and inaccessible, others equip us with a vibrant new vocabulary, wrapped as we are in their long living metaphor.
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