I really like this picture. The flower is obviously from a bush of some sort, a hedge perhaps. I really don’t remember it. Maybe I took a different walk that day. Maybe it’s been there all the time but I just haven’t noticed it. It’s so delicately white with an airbrushed or watercolored center bleeding into the outer white. And many more about to bloom. Maybe I stopped for the pain in my legs to dissipate. Maybe I was just tired and stopped. Or maybe I stopped because of the delicate coloration and the fragility of the white. The bush seems of no interest whatsoever, except for this almost miraculous bloom. Is there a message here? Am I supposed to see or think something? Flowers speak to insects. They draw them in to fertilize the next generation. Perhaps when we see flowers, like this one, we see every love we have ever had without quite remembering, or understanding. Perhaps flowers speak also to us.