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Rosebud

Near the greenhouse behind the School of Pythagoras, a rose refuses to acknowledge winter.

 

There are some days I wish I could present this symbol of life, pain, beauty, and fragility to someone. There also are days that I think of people whose loveliness could easily compete with the freshness and vitality of this seasonal pleasure; they bud and bloom with a more enduring life. But I leave the fragrances undisturbed, set my face forward, and carry on alone.

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Taken on December 2, 2006