there's always a place for a dying rose
These flowers come into my home vibrant, full of life. They leave through the backdoor, usually thrown into the rubbish after a week or so. They'll end up in some landfill site, rapidly decaying until they become part of the landscape.
But there is beauty in their demise, as the colour fades and the leaves fall off, they still hold an irredescent quality. I often wonder what it would be like to save them, to create an ode to the dying rose, an ode to the dead rose. It would take me back to the days where I used to own a flower press, drying out the flowers in the hot press to save them.
There's always a place for a dying rose.