This morning on my walk with the dogs, I came across a narrow stretch of lawn with a small scattering of rose petals. These rose petals though had writing on them. I thought at once at the romantic nature of the gesture, foregoing ordinary paper in place of a far more fragrant and symbolic stationary. Was this once one long note, penned across a
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"...God the ocean water that I gave you, Kingdom my wife never saw..."
These roses are strewn as an offering to god as a prayer for the soul of the deceased wife of the Santaria practitioner who left them there in her memory. The rejection was that she died. The stinging essence of thorn, indeed!
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