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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐄𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝑺𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒐 𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝑺𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕

She exhales, breathing the spicy floral scent out her system. It’s one of those days, when Smeraldo fills her lungs with piquant, pepper undertones of carnations. She breathes through her mouth, tasting the nausea. She ticks the box a little too hard.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟..

Her stomach tightens, perilously close to spilling her guts out. “I’ll be outside.”

He comes in like the brisk and cold breeze biting her skin, like the growing thunders in her chest. Like the blurry pictures of people playing in her mind, in her eyes - people she never know. The sad cadences of laughters and voices in her head. Familiar and unknown.

“It’s the fucking carnations,” she hissed under her breath.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝑎��.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟..

The cadences of the bell impedes her small jaunt outside. He steps in—white shirt striking amidst the rich spectrum of colors inside the flower shop.

She holds the door open for him. “Welcome," the smile almost didn't reach her eyes.

And his, the surface of a still pond. “Hi.”

He comes inside, and she outside.

——

She doubles over, knife slashing through skin.

"𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴!"

"𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴: 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵."

"𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬. 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦."

The voices go on, a cacophony of symphony accompanying the beating of pain. Time crawls so slow, history lost.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦.

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟..

——

“Are you okay?”

She stands, the voices drifting away.. away..“My.." She starts, unsure. But the urge to talk to him consumes her that if she doesn't she knows he'll drift away like the kids in the back of her mind. "My condolences.”

Heartbreaking. “Thanks." His smile is heartbreaking. "Bye.”

She remains still, her eyes followed him—and into his car, their eyes meet in his rearview mirror for a while, until he speeds away. She remains still.

𝑾𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏?

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦.

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕?

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟..

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐?

𝐿𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟..

The wind howls whispers in her ears.

The clouds hang low and heavy in the sky.

Perfect day for a funeral.

❁ Found this in my notes. I remembered writing this and revising and revising until finally giving up. It's the original plan we had for this character and its raison d'etre but things happened and its a waste to let this rot in my hundred list notes. Anyways, stay safe lovelies! 𝑳𝒂𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒏!

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 four sisters reigned the current household of the Rothschild family, their only goal to keep the house the most powerful in the living realm

Alfa - the crown Anja - the shield Aqua - the scepter Asha - the sword

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝑨𝑹𝑩𝑹𝑬 𝑫𝑬 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑶𝑰𝑹𝑬 #thepenandtheartist

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆. And I want tell you: ‘right away’. But no, that wasn’t true, it wasn’t even after a year or two. It took almost a decade before I confessed. What spurted the conversation, the confession it led to, I couldn’t remember. But that was how we always were, so lost in the world of our own, in languages only we know.

My back was to him, ashamed of every word that escaped my lips, peeling off the shell that hold the superficial beauty I presented the world. It was unbearable, humiliating, to be at someone’s mercy. To be sure of myself one moment and then crumble at his every word next.

Why then? Why only then? Oh, because I was afraid. The lie wrapped me in silk, the promise of a lulled sleep and outside was a walk of shame and thorns – of starting over again, of wagers of hearts, of trust and betrayal, the shaky ground of uncertainties, of trying again and never knowing when it will end, if it will ever end.

It was a wager, a prayer. I waited for the bed to tilt; his side easing empty, footsteps falling further away and the door shutting close, locked away in the dungeon of my foolish hopes. I was prepared then, for him to walk away – for who would stay for a good so damaged? But he was an oddity, an anomaly – he took me whole – with skin scarred rotten and blood ugly black. With fangs hidden under smiles and eyes like knives. And so selfish, so selfish, so selfish…

“I love you.” Despite, despite, despite…

How wondrous this moment. To flay your skin of insecurities and fears and doubts and truths and be cradled to sleep, in a lullaby so old. To close your eyes to dream, fearless, for at last reality is better than the dream.

How wondrous!

To be loved and cared for still,

like a firm ground after a series of rollercoaster.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕, 𝑰 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅, 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘.

❁ Thank you, Holly Kertia and Arbre De Memoire for this event. For asking me to be part of it. I've been vocal about how I don't think I can do it but you believed in me (surprisingly since I am rarely here & so rarely write). I am not confident, I was never confident. But writing is my way to explore the what ifs & so despite my crumbling self, I struggle still. This piece is something I am not proud of and it took a friend to read this to realize that it isn't because of the writing (I already know I am not great), not exactly. It's the content. My hesitation lies in the laying down of my deepest experience, a major turning point in my life, and I am writing it, for everyone to read and see and judge and do I really want that? Do I open a chapter of my life for the world to look upon, to do as they please? And I realized how each piece, we lay down a piece of ourselves and for that reason, each of them by itself is already so precious, so wonderful and more than enough reason to be celebrated. More than enough reason to be appreciated. Thank you, Holly. Without this, I will continue walking this life, never knowing I am missing an important piece of this big puzzle. Thank you. I wished Arbre de Memoire the greatest of successes and I am always here to support you and if you need help, you have me at your disposal.

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐒𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐨 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑡, ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑝.

He had regarded with an interest she alluded to a child’s, the sunflowers bathing under the sparse warmth of the sun that eluded London those days.

He had smiled, apologetic, when he caught her looking that he probably misinterpreted for he scrambled off and disappeared the street of Sloane.

But even then, she remembered him. But only after the second time that she found out why.

It was his eyes.

He had gone farther inside the flower shop, lightly touching the leaves, smiling and frowning in sporadic intervals. She had not ascertained which flora elicited which, for she had been utterly rivetted by his eyes. So green, almost serpentine, and she wondered how beautiful, how fitting he had been standing among the flowers and plants.

She had caught her breath when he turned her way and asked, ❞𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒖𝒎𝒔❞

❞𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏’𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏,❞ she managed. ❞𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈.❞

He had stood frozen in a moment in time inaccessible to her. Later, when she would summon a memory of him, it was that look in his eyes—long and far away—that she would remember first.

Then he said, ❞𝑰𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏.❞ And he had gone out the door.

It had been his voice, a soft whisper of apology, that announced him the first day of spring. He walked slowly inside and paused. Haydn’s Sonata No. 50 had been faintly playing that day, her personal salute to the blooming season.

❞𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒂,❞ he’d said and she smiled. He approached the counter where she had stood. They were almost like friends then, visiting each other once every year. And she waited for him, craved his return. There was something about the silence of their friendship—if she’d be so bold to assume—that asked for nothing but a recognition every time they met.

❞𝑮𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒖𝒎𝒔?❞

❞𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏’𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒔.❞

❞𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆?❞ she asked. She had an uncanny foresight that he’d give them to someone special.

He’d hesitated a bit but then wrote a short note. He passed it to her gingerly, in a way that she knew he was handing it to her and yet not. She’d occupied herself with wrapping the small ribbon around the bouquet handle. She had smiled when finally, he inscribed something more in the note. He’d blushed when he handed it to her to be carefully placed in the geraniums.

It was a message so private she had not dared read, but the name—his name, nothing enticed her very much so.

𝑱𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑺𝒕. 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒔. He wrote.

And his hesitations clearly added last—𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒊𝒏.

𝑱𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑺𝒕. 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒔-𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒊𝒏.

Over the years—every spring—she’d receive a note with a singular sunflower signed by him. And every time, even after so long, the hesitant scrawl of the last name never faded. And it filled her with fondness and gripping curiosity. But it was so much later that she found out why, through a letter (again with a single sunflower) by Harold Stein, and by then, it was too late.

❁ And so I continue AnjaxSmeraldoFlowersCustomers (I invented the title I know lame ) and decided to add book characters, but really I just can't move on from this character and by writing this I hope I'll find my reprieve for a while ( I have more books to read, Jude pls) and so Jude St. Francis-Stein from A Little Life is my first victim. Writing this felt both like an AU and fanfiction, maybe a little of both. I'm planning one for the trio & Harold, too, hopefully. Also, this is spoiler free (I hope)! Please read A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. It is so beautiful and devastating but beautiful. Too beautiful. Too devastating. Yes, at the same time.

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞: 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧

LQ Cover photo inspired by the face’s cute fashion in the loveliest shades.

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐌: 𝐆𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐒𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐨 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 & 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐭

Good evening, 𝑮𝒚𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒔.

I am Anja Jamilla Rothschild from Smeraldo Flowers. We, at Smeraldo, believe in Sereia’s commitment to promote loving one’s body regardless of size, age, color and sexual orientation. It profoundly mirrors Smeraldo Flowers’ endless pursuit to break down gender stereotypes, especially among plants and flora.

It is the reason why we are honored to present our esteemed guests a collaboration of the sweetest blend especially created for this event. The limited-edition 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 & 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 gift box set by Smeraldo Flowers and Ms. Lorena Jean of Lotte Pastry House.

These carefully curated gifts are filled to the brim with beautiful things and packed with meaning:

𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒔, baked, curated to perfection and sprinkled with pixie dust by the pastry fairy;

𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 – the eternal flower of love and romance;

𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 – the hallmark of gratitude, grace, admiration, and joy;

𝑺𝒖𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 – the symbol of timeless love &

𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑸𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒛 – the crystal of unconditional love

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦 & 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐞, a match made in heaven.

We dare you (not!) to name a better duo.

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐢 (최윤지)

A variety of photos in the same texts, in various placements: a reflection of how the moderator cannot choose a single photo to use in her display photos. The first photo won her heart in the end.

“No rain, no flowers” Smeraldo Flowers’ signature phrase.

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐬

Logo, updated May 2021, in original pink shade

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍: 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲

𝐋𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 truly knew how to make their guest feel like god in this Elysian fields.

She was mildly astonished to hear knocks on her door and find pleasant staff waiting to escort her safely to the event proper. She was inclined to refuse the kind offer but thought better of it, she had something to ask them after all.

The soft whisper of the wind greeted their entourage once out of her cottage by the sea. The softened hues of the sky, pinks and blues, illuminated by the sparkling beach gave her likeness of a dream. Few more steps and the friendly chatters and laughter joined the gentle lapping of the sea against sand that sang lullaby to her soul.

She was so lost in her own found peace that she almost forgot the reason she consented to her companions shadowing her steps. She turned, gently tugging her cotton blue cardigan around her securely for the wind was slowly catching. ❞𝑰𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒉 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆?❞

❞𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑨𝒏𝒋𝒂.❞

That was too fast a reply and she suspected Kenneth had warned them of her probing. She thanked them anyways and proceeded into the event, stealthily avoiding the press to reach Abby Stein’s side immediately, she had warned them incessantly to make haste.

𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗖𝗘𝗦: Edit is done by combining these photos below:

Choi Yoonji for Milkcocoa

Edited photo by Kenneth Lysandra Barker for Lysandra Luxury Resort

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐊𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩 𝐱 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐒𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐨 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐮 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

I hope everyone enjoyed the game, congratulations to the expected winner. Kidding, I’m kidding. A pleasant evening to all.

I am Anja Jamilla Rothschild from Smeraldo Flowers. It is my honour and pleasure to be chosen to present our esteemed guest their gifts to remember this wonderful event by.

Flowers are ephemeral. Their most beautiful moment is when flowers are in full bloom right before they wither to die. And it is always a challenge to us florists, so this idea came to us—to preserve them in their most beautiful, 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞.

It is a disturbing yet shockingly beautiful and colorful art preservation of dead flowers stuffed and frozen inside a bottle. It is an existential project, which finds beauty in both life and death—𝒚𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈—of flowers.

This 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬—focuses on the yin and aims to remind us that “without death, life would lose its meaning”.

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flowerschild · 3 years

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍: 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐨 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐁𝐁𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆. I am Anja Jamilla from Smeraldo Flowers. To someone who lived with flowers all her life, summer had always meant spring time – when the sun shines ever bright and warmth wraps our days and flowers bloom the boldest.

Tonight, here in paradise, also marks the spring time of 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 𝒃𝒚 𝑨𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒊𝒏, her hard-working team, her exquisite models, and her generous coordinators and sponsors who worked days and night to make this magic happen. To bring you, our honored guests, the best you most rightfully deserved. Smeraldo is always inspired with BABY by Abby Stein’s effort to remain 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫.

And to express our deepest gratitude for your support in this endeavor, we offer you the 𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 – 𝐴 𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝐵𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒. This is opposite of the dark series we released early this year. These are bottles packed with petals in their full bloom in summer, set in pure white light and preserved in the peak of their sweetness and beauty and ghast reality of their death. This existential project, which finds beauty in both life and death captures the ephemerality of life and nature and invokes the importance of living the moment.

May these fill your senses of the 𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻 𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹 we shared tonight in paradise.

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flowerschild · 3 years

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