i always wonder why my grandma would bother to wake up in the morning, watering her flowers, humming a song and talking to them like they are a sort of humans. didn't i know, that it was the flowers who brought her melancholic life a hue. to live, to grow, and to enjoy. it was her garden... that full of metaphoric air and the bittersweet world, that keeps her alive and free. A PROSE-POEM COLLECTION OF ESTHEREAL INSPIRED BY THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.All Rights Reserved