Flowers are sinful in a way. They come to you fresh, each second getting closer to their inevitable, early death. In between, they bring that whiff of love that transports you into a better mood, a blithe one. You smell and you smell, the scent lingers on but you can't get enough of this sweet intoxication. The colours maybe as bright as sun or as pale as snow, you can see different hues of it, somewhere missing the intensity and somewhere just delicately touching upon it. You fall in love with the exquisite colour palette, slowly, petal by petal. The uncut, overgrowth of leaves adds that required tint of perfection to this marvel. A little mess is alluring, no? Then ofcourse, the thorns are clipped off or are neatly wrapped around but once in a while it hurts you and you realise, why these things are so beautiful. Everyone deserves this indulgence.
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