Wilt tulips, wither roses
Your beauty fades away
As a bouquet in Czech crystal
In a standardized sunlit room
A home like thousand others, walls so thin I hear a thousand voices – day or night my living room is full of guests. Dad helps me to build an archway between the kitchen and living room so we can distinguish our home from thousands of others. Beautiful as a Greek temple, our home now is. The kitchen is my temple, I Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty. I spend my days there wearing a floral dressing gown. It reminds me of the one day every year when I am greeted with a bouquet of red carnations. But carnations wither and so do I. A baby’s Breath on the back of my neck, but as long as there is no one to give me red roses on February 14th, it will stay as it is – in a crystal vase along with the red carnations on the windowsill. After the pink arch follows a red one after the girly daydream follows realization. Is this really me who is awaiting this?
At the opening of the show “Happy 8th March!” amidst glasses of best Soviet champagne all while listening to the favorite tunes of the decade, it was possible to acquire flowers for one’s most special ladies in the flower shop created by artist Ieva Kraule-Kūna and florist Anna Bernarde.
