A single rose can be my garden…
…a single friend, my world. (Buscaglia)
There is little that I don’t love about roses. The smell is a frontal assault on the temporal lobe, disorienting the emotional centers by conjuring up images of love and desire. To feel a rose is to feel the most fragile leather one could ever hold – a fragility and strength at once. Visually, they are beautiful in their complexity. There is little that is simple about a rose. Perhaps that is why roses and love have become synonymous.
Love is a frontal assault on the senses, confusing the brain and conjuring up emotions and memories. It is fragile and strong, beautiful and complex.