There is something about the way flowers are unapologetic in their beauty. Despite, and sometimes in spite of their surroundings, they choose to be beautiful.
They grow on bomb sites, and graveyards, and in tiny cracks of dirt alongside raucous grafitti and smog-congested highways.

They are not intimidated by the dirt they emerge from or feel the need to emulate the ugliness they may have to exist alongside.

They simply turn their heads to the light and let their loveliness be their argument.