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Nomen est omen

Such are Masters!  Busy. Inconsiderate. Skilful. They do not know with what is not their trade. They do not know with flowers. Their hands are too rough although they create the thiniest lines and landscapes. Their nose is clogged with the scent of paints and varnishes, rooted beneath their nail roots. And the flowers need someone to to be smelled by someone. To come out, spread its petals toward the one who feels. It is there to stop the world for a moment and take you to some new reality. And the craftsmen are constantly in their own dusty reality. They would break the petals just by looking at them. With the dust from their clothes they would smother the smell of the flower and it would simply wither . Flower.

Therefore, dear women, if you happen to be a flower and accidentally your name is Margareta, stay away if you know God masters. Their alter ego is narcissus and the only flower they see is the reflection of their mastery in their artworks.



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