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Where do roses grow?
A beautiful rose, magnificent red on its slender, elongated stalk.
A symbol of love, but cut off and already dying.
I remember seeing a wild rose growing on its bush. I brought it home and put it in a vase,
and watched it day after day as it slowly died.
The rose does not praise beauty or love. Neither can it break promises not given.
It is a dead branch. Found. Not broken. Clear cuts defined its direction.
Wearing it offers you to think about life as it is.
Not knowing if it is on the point of dying or spire.
by Johanna Persson
material- branch 2008
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