Death Dealers

I walked past the flower department of my grocery store today and maybe it is the lack of colour in the winter world or the lack of smells other than "ass freezing cold" but I decided to stop and look, inhale their fragrance. It occurred to me as I touched their satin petals, and awed over their beautiful displays of colour: they are dead. From the moment they are cut, they are in the process of dying. They may be gorgeous, brilliant and aromatic, but they are dying on the inside where no one can see it. Flower shops, the places that we visit for dates, anniversaries, weddings, birthdays. Are they really anything more than dealers of death?