Foreword: This was written for a darling friend who, at nineteen years of age, lost a parent over the weekend. A friend who I don’t have the pleasure of spending time with as often as I’d like to, but who’s managed to touch me with her strength and her writing. A friend who’s caressed my core, stirred me. A friend who I’ve laughed with and cried for. A friend who’s taught me to appreciate the treasures in my life. A friend who’s brave and beautiful in speech, soul, mind and flesh.

With an aura flushed rich shades of passion and purity, you exist as radiant, rose-like. And like a rose, you’ll kiss people with your subtle splendour and bring colour to the cheeks of the young, the unravelled, the broken hearted. Like a rose, you’ll deliver crimson and carmine and coral to a world of somberness and smoky skies. Like a rose, your beauty will remain timeless, regardless of your cuspate thorns. Like a rose, you’ll emerge following the frost, brilliant and bright and blooming. Fair flower, you’ll flourish again.