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For the awkward beauty of dysfunction and the celebration of the perfectly imperfect. In a revolutionary move to abdicate the rule of perfectionism I bought this peony for Spring Day. Its feather-like petals fold in on itself, covering layer upon layer its inner world like a coy little lady. Who cares that a few on the outside are brown from travelling stress.  The other flower offered to me by the florist had more symmetry and lacked the few damaged petals on the outside, but I wanted this one. Happy Spring day 2015.

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