This is the story about a flower that lost its petals to the wind just because a stranger said it was beautiful.
As if it did not know of its beauty.
And yet the stranger made the flower to think it had not reached the level of beauty yet.
She had been with the mother, her beauty resonated from her.
Until one day, a bee came flying on to her and sucked her out.
Enticed her into thinking she was a flower only when she attracted him.
And him also who had hands that were so rough yet brushed so gently against her.
She lost her colors to winter. He came with promises that she will not feel his coldness.
She still stood beautiful, through winter
through rain, the pain did not undress her beauty.
And even when he whose hands cut her from her mother
made her live without those of hers
She still thought she was loved. By him, by the bee, by her mother.
She forgot to enclose her secrets to the sight of him.
Even when she dried, died and fell off.
She thought she was the same flower she was
until one day she was in a vase
put in water, she saw she was no longer red no more
had lost a few petals, had lost her scents
had lost herself to those who called her beautiful.
As if it was the first time she heard the word.
She got to know the word as she saw the beauty with which
tears from strangers eyes fell onto the ground.
And each time a new flower more beautiful will replace her sight
but never her being.