On the corner, near the Sforza castle in Milan, roses for sale at Frida’s. These are early buds, a first crop from a greenhouse in the hills behind San Remo. Their fine smell needles me into search through my bag for my wallet.
Five minutes later, clutching a handful of thorny stems, nose immersed in the soft pink, I head home on this rainy day with spring in my lungs.
2 thoughts on “Roses from Frida”
Oh, marvelous, Natalia. Spring in your lungs!! 🙂