One swallow cannot make me
Nor the gentian blue,
But see a rose and you will know
That I am good and true*
* quoted from the untitled book by Kit Williams that everybody should read at some point in their life, or at least look at the pictures.
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I find it pretty hard to write about flowers. I love their shapes, their colours, their variations, their deceptive simplicity. There must be a way of working this into prose without it becoming too… prosaic?