A flower is both banal and voluptuous — just follow their arc: from impervious, to pretty, to effulgent, to rot, to disappearance. At any point a flower is entirely capable of embodying familiarity as well as surprise. Is anything else so cliché but so full of ardor? Whatever the answer, a flower is the deepest of pleasures for some, whether ruminative poet or combustible couturier.
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