So, though I fought against it as much as I could, and cliché as it might be, 20) my favorite flower, hands down, hands and hands down, is the rose. And no, not some "perfect" red bud, fragrant-less and thorn-less from a florist's shop. No, the kind that grows wild along the side of a road or in a rose garden, preferably someone else's, that I can stumble upon unexpectedly on a hot day, admire, bury my face in and breathe, experience sensory overload with scent and color and texture, so much that I want to eat them. See the various stages of blossom and decay, all mixed up together. Growing more beautiful as they age until they collapse into a pile of petals on the ground.
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| Late summer roses/L Herlevi |
This was gonna be a little more cheeky, but I just saw a movie about poverty and I'm pretty pissed off right now. http://www.hbo.com/documentaries/american-winter/index.html
