Strangely, while we know who wrote the poem, the name of the flower escapes us.
This appears to be Aystasia instrusa.
We pass by people everyday - on the streets, in the bus, on the train, in the store - and they are often faces without names, without life.
What does it cost to take a second to share a smile or a hello.
Life as with the flower at the top? Or life as with the flower at the bottom.
And the words of Etienne de Grellet echoes in my head, again.
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