Thu 16 Jun 2005
It’s good there is grass here. Out there where I grew up we didn’t have grass, just soil. Grass was simply not allowed to grow. But here there is plenty of it, I lay on it, I feel its leaves beneath me and around me. It’s better this way.
The sun shines, it’s so hot. I just lie. I try to understand why I ended up here, in a park, in the middle of a summer day, disoriented, thirsty. I was sure she likes me. She smiled so broadly when she saw me, she took me in her arms with care and laughter. And then, fifteen minutes later she just tossed me, left me here on this lawn without a word.
I thought she likes him too. He was so worried when he carried me with him, when he paced up and down the alley, waiting. I could feel his hands tremble a bit just before she appeared. I thought she likes him enough to take me as his gift. But no. Soon after he was gone I flew into the air and felt here. I don’t get it. I try. Despite the thirst.
I have this strange feeling I know her. Or I knew her. Somehow her touch was familiar. But I don’t remember. I don’t have much memory. And much time. I’m just a rose.
It won’t be long now, in this sun. I feel thirst. I feel it coming up my stalk. Oh, I’m glad the grass is here. It’s better this way…