A different kind of flower, or so it seems. It's not the dry one that shines with purity, rather the soggy, heavy and weary one. But with all this, it still holds onto its vivid colours with dignity.

I see in this scene too things - beauty lies in the eye of the beholder and sometimes it's beyond appearances; but in the same time I also see the fact that one day, you have to make a compromise and realise that the absolute beauty is unreachable. It's the imperfection that makes everything unique, yet it's also hard to get over the fact that in the end, it's just imperfection - and not the real thing.