Book: The language of flowers

If I had her on a cold concrete sidewalk, among the machines and noise would be better. The child would immediately understand that this world is not soft and nothing to count on a warm welcome.

I threw the pictures into the ditch and sat down on the sidewalk next to the darkroom, feeling like a loser.
- Experimenting with abstraction?
- No, experimenting with the armless.

I mean the language of flowers. This language is originally from the Victorian era, and your name. Then people communicated through flowers. If a man would give the girl a bouquet of flowers, she fled home and tried to decipher it as a secret message. Red roses meant love, yellow - infidelity. So flowers for a bouquet the young people had to choose wisely.

And this bog is a symbol of hospitality. Handing you a bouquet Bolotnikov, I invite you into my home and into my life.

His answer was as white poplar - it was not a certainty.

His love was silent, but relentless.

People change. But love - never. And family ever.

If moss can grow without roots, and maternal love arises by itself, as if from nowhere, I made a mistake, believing himself unworthy to raise her daughter. Draw, unwanted and unloved can learn to give love generously, like everyone else.

A sharp chemical smell was nothing like the sugar haze of my dreams as yellow Jasmine not Jasmine-like low: the first represents the separation, the second is attachment.

Sitting on the porch, I sifted through my fingers like a handful of tiny chamomile flowers.
- Value? - I asked.
Elizabeth turned floral thread into the ring.
- The power to overcome obstacles.

Thistle grows everywhere. That's probably why people are so insatiable hate each other.

What's between us hidden from everyone. When my friends are discussing their wives or girlfriends, brag or complain about them, I always silent. We're all different. And I want to keep it that way. So nobody can touch this. That it remained hidden.

- I would rather certopoloha of pionowo-Basilicata girl...
- Misanthropy, anger, hatred?

I took a deep breath, and my lungs filled with disappointment.