On Wednesday in Recoleta Cemetery, I got waylaid by roses. Which is curious, as just that morning I’d been writing in my notebook about how we’re often brought up to play small, not to show off, to water ourselves down.
A rose, on the other hand, has no problem saying, when the time is right, “Here I am and aren’t I magnificent?”
I’m sure the not-showing-off thing is in the name of being liked by others. But what if others will accept us exactly as we are? And maybe even more so when we stop being afraid to stand out – to be our hugest, most brilliant selves. I’m working from that premise from now on.
I love the way this photograph turned out, with the reflection of neighbouring bronze plaques giving a hint of foliage around the left-hand rose. And pushing things out of focus gets me that otherworldly feeling I’m always after. This one has to be called Flourishing. I hope the person the flowers are for got to shine while they were here.