I have so much gratitude for this message, I wonder if I can put it into words. I suppose that’s the reason I’ve neglected writing for so long — because the world is so vast and I am but a bud attached to a stem attached to a branch attached to a trunk attached to roots attached to soft, soft earth. I am one of many but regardless of how many flowers burst around me, my pollen won’t be any less sweeter. I can be tasted and I can touch.

The flowers were never gone and it’s impossible for them to die. They can wilt or their petals can curl tightly towards each other like the slender legs of a decomposing spider, but the essence of their beauty is something that never vanishes. It’s impossible. In reply to your message:

“There are always flowers for those who want to see them.” — Henri Matisse.

Don’t forget this. I’m going to try my hardest not to.

(Please excuse my rambling — I had several epiphanies while I was coming up with this response.)