Floral speak

We grow beneath a blazing and just sun, light evenly distributed across our field. Others grow in valleys where moisture pools and ridges throw shade. But we are well-preserved within our utopian garden. Each of us bears a monetary responsibility. We understand our fate.

Childhood delights us. Winds wave soft upon our growing. We dance and nod our pleasure, petals flick tribute. We suckle bees and mature to perfection.

When we are cut loose from the earth, hacked by an external, indescribable pain, we bundle together with compatriots and emigrate overseas across landscapes hidden from view.

Arriving at our destiny, we depart family and friends to bundle with foreign blossoms, pheromoning our stories while absorbing theirs.

In this way, we become one bouquet, united in radiant beauty. This is all we desire. This is our purpose for being.

It is said, gazing at fish in water calms the soul. Bouquets such as we add aroma to the mix. Our perfume activates emotions within a woman in white. Her olfactory sense connects with her limbic system, which initiates her instinctive sense of tranquility.

We are natural therapists.

Inhaling our fullness reduces her stress hormone, her cortisol. We stimulate happy chemicals within.

Beauty is no small gift to bestow upon the world. We are content.