Dear journal,
I found something interesting today. A met a wonderful, beautiful, talented little thing named May. She's as short and sweet as the month she's named after. She's everything the Haus of Lyon needs but I don't know how to get her on my...
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Dear Journal,
Bit of a mundane day.
Today, I visited my mother at her country home once again. The familiar drive up the winding road was oddly comforting, a respite from the whirlwind of work and stress that's been my life lately. I found her inside, sitting with a glass of wine, pouring over old photo albums. The scene was both nostalgic and slightly surreal.
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel when I look at her. Sometimes I felt haltered, sometimes affection. Today was confusion mixed in with indifference.
She looked up as I entered, her face lighting up with a wistful smile. "Look at this," she said, pointing to a faded photograph. "I once went on a whirlwind vacation with a prince."
"Which prince?"
She waved her hand. "Monaco, I think. We nearly got married, you know?"
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? And why didn't you?"
"It wasn't meant to be," she replied with a sigh. "We had a wonderful time, but it was just a fleeting moment. I married your father because... it was what was meant to happen."
I frowned, struggling to understand. "But if you weren't happy, why not follow your heart? Why settle for something you weren't truly content with? Why didn't you leave?"
She looked at me, a hint of regret in her eyes. "Sometimes life just unfolds a certain way. I suppose I thought I could find happiness in the life that was laid out for me."
I shook my head, unable to hide my scepticism. "That sounds like a convenient excuse."
She nodded, taking a sip of her wine. "Perhaps. But it's the truth as I see it."
I left her to her memories and wandered through her garden. The flowers were in full bloom, their colours vibrant and beautiful. It was a sight that brought me unexpected clarity. Amidst the stillness of the garden, I found inspiration blooming as well.
An idea began to take shape in my mind, a vision for how I could channel my current turmoil into something creative and meaningful. I needed to return to the city, to put this idea into action.
As I drove back, I couldn't shake the thought of May. She had been a guiding light during these turbulent times, and I knew she would appreciate the idea that had taken root in my mind.
I dialled her number as soon as I was on the road. The phone rang a few times before she answered.
"Alexander?" Her voice was warm and inviting.
"May, I have something I want to discuss with you," I said, feeling a surge of excitement. "I've got a new idea, and I think it's something we should work on together. Can we meet tomorrow?"
There was a pause, then a soft, enthusiastic reply. "Of course. I'm looking forward to hearing what you've come up with."
Yes, I know. Florals are so cliche. Everyone's done them to death.
But sometimes less is more.
You see, life and death have very few symbols in common. One of these symbols is flowers. Lillies, roses, and callas. All white like pure snow, signalling the harbingers of death in black cloaks. I'm going to make a collection about it.
They thought that I would stay dead. They thought I was gone.
Well...I'm like a curse, there's no shaking me off.
Much to do,
- Alexander
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