she loves me–she loves me not


Prospero, can’t you grow daisies like everybody else?

The short answer, predictably, is no. It’s not that the beauty of a wildflower doesn’t terrify me; it’s just that the mind of a collector, to whose fraternity I belong, is generally predisposed to seek the unusual and, dare I say, the grotesque–like a huckster at a carnival seeks to surround himself with nothing but the tallest and shortest of the splendid (though sometimes maligned) homo sapiens genus: in short, he dines in a wind ruffled tent with wise giants and wily dwarfs.

Amorphophallus paeoniifolius



  1. ah, the dwarfs, indeed, i remember them! 🙂

    after i recover from this celestial sight (we are in the magician’s world, where what i above is below and what is below is above), i will perhaps be able to reply to your marvelously woven words as well…


  2. What’s not to love about something with the name “Amorphophallus”?


  3. She loves you, I’m sure of it.

    While your words dance, the top of that flower seems to hover…


  4. wow, that’s very exotic. And so much better than the traditional!


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