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It's springtime, my favorite season in London, despite of the weather, which is sometimes a bit chilly, sometimes a bit rainy. In the middle of this sunny afternoon, however, I happened to cross Regent's Park, in the central area. It is beautiful with so many types of flowers, colors, smells, bees and butterflies. I lived near this park last year and I used to run in it by the end of the day. That was a nice time.
Today I passed by an area that was full of all sorts of roses. This one called my attention and made me think of you, who are like her: pretty, thorny, perfumed, delicate, elegant.
A popular character by Saint-Exupéry once uttered that you cannot love roses in general, that you can only love one specific rose. Therefore, being responsible for her is accepting her even in her fragility and her thorniness. That's what I feel now, at the end of a week of misunderstandings.
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ReplyDelete"For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers?... Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, even without realizing what he's doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself, 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out.
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