I had to stretch my arm out to take this picture blind. Any closer and my shadow ruined it. So I gave it a quick snap and continued on my way. It was only this evening that I noticed how beat up it seems. How fragile, and yet how alive. Its purpose, of course, is to attract insects, not me. But flowers seem to operate on different planes. This one tells me that you don’t have to be perfect. You have to shine brightly and be yourself. At least that’s what it seems to say. Body’s old, hair’s thinning, memory is no longer perfect. And yet… I have no idea what all the activity around it is or means. But as a flower, an imperfect flower, it seems absolutely perfect.