I remember that a few days ago a hostel fellow asked me to take her pics with a nosegay and a present that she had got from her friend. The redolence of the bouquet was refreshing the atmosphere. She gave several pauses with that, I captured her and returned to my room. Today when I passed by her room , seeing that bouquet in dustbin flabbergasted me; made me realize the eccentric significance of flowers to us ; an artifact of present and past which needs to be refashioned.
I have seen a number of girls who love to be called a "Flower". I want to address them: Oh listen! calling you a flower isn't your praise at all but a sweet way of telling you the fragility of your status in this society; your mortal outer prospect matters here not your everlasting character. When you are
fragrance, eye-captivating and young here's a prominent place for you and when you'll lose your charm this society will throw you in a dustbin.
Think about it and struggle to become not a flower with a mortal aroma which gives the
nose trills a pleasure but a flower with an everlasting fragrance ; fighting with the plague in the air ; stimulating the souls and purifying the minds.