Hyacinth, 1922

A small, third world beauty.

The Victorians know of you for your play on the human mind. The lily is within your bloodline but your fragrance is like no other. Simplicity of a western housewife with complexity of wall to reality beauty. She counts days. She counts nights. Apollo, the Sun God, rose her up. Zephyr, the God of the West Wind, knocked her down. A goddess of normality that draws flies of attention. She is marked for her constancy and sincerity. — Drew Skyland

*In honor of a good friend. She was the rock on the edge of the waterfall. The arrow on the bow. She was protection. She was my armor. Thank you Kamryn.

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