Eric with found flowers. Late last night, on a filthy subway staircase. Thick stems still sticky with sap, likely yanked up from one of the beds in the small city park nearby. Reminder that for all the human race is capable of in art, literature, science, medicine…it also has the tendency to see things that are beautiful and vulnerable, and destabilize, damage, and discard them.
We took the two flowers on our ride home and I put them in a jar of water. By morning the petals were firm and waxy…there’s still life in them. My father taught me once how to do plant stem cuttings. I wonder if they can be salvaged? I wonder what kind of flower they even are?