In the city, a red flower has appeared.
Simple and beautiful.
Delicate and strong. Unexpected.
A nomadic flower, taking root in the asphalt.
A flower in the city.
"...No one plants or chooses me, I simply grow. Anywhere, scattered here and there, so delicate, I am picked and I delight, I am left and I bloom. Put me against your lips and I flush them red. I am a poppy..."