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Hello cupcakes, here I am. Again. Crazy about coffee. Lacking inspiration to write anything worthy lately. OK. Forever.

Yesterday my man surprised me with a bunch of roses.  My first reaction was a gasp of delight. My second was a suspicious question: “What did you do? “

To which he smiled with the answer “I just know you. “ And he does.


Flowers drive me mad. Really, I think I’m obsessed with them. If it was up to me I would put them everywhere: a beautiful brunch of white tulips on the dining table, powder pink peonies on the side table in the ‘living room’ (pealing laughs rise up when those readers who know the measurement of my maison even hear that word). Geraniums on the small balcony, green hydrangeas in the bedroom. And in the bathroom. Given that I would put flowers even there, between the moisturizing cream and the hair straightener.

Mine is an obsession.

Obsession with the desire even to sensitize the boys who buy flowers.

And getting “I miss you.” messages from you, who read what I write scattered around the world,  like spots on Vuitton skirt designed by Kusama, the idea to write a silly post of my passion was born. You are my Florists. Those with the best flowers. Those who cuddle you when you feel like buying yourself a gift which is something like a poem. Those who save you when it’s 9 pm and you have to have dinner at your boyfriend’s mum’s. Those open all night long because beautiful things have no time.

I won’t be waiting for your response.

Thank you for reading my blog which smells roses. And violets.


Love Greta

the last photos via tumblr.com