Valentine’s Day passed and I delighted myself with a few moments of pure happiness, packed in a blue flower arrangement. Someone dear to me send me blue orchids, a sophisticated bouquet of magical beauty. I admired their delicate petals and the texture of the flowers the whole day, from behind my office. I wonder, who is the Bucharest florist who can create such miracles of pure beauty?
After the long, exhausting hours of work ended, the shape of my precious bouquet of blue orchids enlightened my imagination and I started to research. The original bouquet was created by RomanianFlowerShop.com, a group of people dedicated to Bucharest flower delivery service.
My bouquet is called Infinite Blue, a name which reminds me about the time I met its sender, a blue-eyed man who spend his vacation at the seaside. Since then, his courtship has been nothing but romantic. He never signs the bouquets he sends to me, but I just know it is him. How do I know that? Well, because I started to receive these flowery wonders only after I met him. Because he told me he loves flowers. Because the time we met, the sea was dark blue, just like the flowers he sent me yesterday. When we drank our tea together on a wooden boat, surrounded by the blue waters of the sea, he crowned my heart with a blue flower, saying love can have any color in the world, but black.
I only wished he signed the flowers he sends me, so our wordless romance can bloom in this world of infinite colors. Since he left home, I dream all kinds of flowers, full of vibrance, sweetness and love. It would be impossible for him not to love me. No man acts this delicate with a woman, unless he is in love with her. I have a garden full of roses back home, he said, after we decided not to keep in touch, because our homes were very different and far away with each other. Mine is a small minimalist urban studio, and he lives in a house decorated decades ago, full of history and beauty. Maybe romance is not a good idea, I thought then, maybe I just should remain an urban flower living in the middle of the tall, cold, urban buildings, hoping not to be crushed by an inattentive foot.
As I arranged the 7-th bouquet of flowers I received since we last saw each other, the doorbell rang. As I opened the door, I saw a gorgeous, special bouquet, called Lost Paradise, and a dear voice asked:
– Hey, remember me?
Of course I did.