I've been in this phase lately.
I never really cared much about flowers.
I mean, I always knew they spoke of beauty, but I was never truly moved by it.
The thing is, I think I never understood their beauty or understood the deeper meaning of their fleeting nature.
I call these "street flowers". They're exposed to the elements, they get shaken by the wind, their soft petals get crushed by raindrops. They bloom, imperceptibly but not so slowly. They open to reveal themselves. They open more and more, and open up and stretch so large that they eventually fall apart. Their vibrant petals end up lying on the ground, loosing all color until complete decomposition.
I was seeing but not looking. Now I collect them on polaroids.
Why now? I'm not sure. I do have a slight idea why, but I'll keep that to myself, for now.