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Description
memories are sort of like petals of a flower

you pluck, pluck and pluck each and every petal-each and every petal a scent of honeysuckle, chamomile, lavender, narcisse, musk-until the flower withers

then you pick up another flower in your way and pluck all its petals until it withers

some keep the petals in their pocket, some toss them out in the street, some produce creative arts with them, some grind them with their shoes, some make new perfumes for others

every flower has its own longevity and subjective beauty

one might wither faster than the other; your hands which handle a flower determine and decide

every now and then you will come across a thorn hidden beneath the flower, the flower with the thorns, and you will cut your finger, feeling the hurt of bleeding

even so, the scents-honeysuckle, chamomile, lavender, narcisse, musk-of the petals of a flower follow you, oftentimes wafting under your nose...

until you yourself wither

Description
memories are sort of like petals of a flower

you pluck, pluck and pluck each and every petal-each and every petal a scent of honeysuckle, chamomile, lavender, narcisse, musk-until the flower withers

then you pick up another flower in your way and pluck all its petals until it withers

some keep the petals in their pocket, some toss them out in the street, some produce creative arts with them, some grind them with their shoes, some make new perfumes for others

every flower has its own longevity and subjective beauty

one might wither faster than the other; your hands which handle a flower determine and decide

every now and then you will come across a thorn hidden beneath the flower, the flower with the thorns, and you will cut your finger, feeling the hurt of bleeding

even so, the scents-honeysuckle, chamomile, lavender, narcisse, musk-of the petals of a flower follow you, oftentimes wafting under your nose...

until you yourself wither