I have always liked the flower at the end of its life, where the color becomes more intense, the gradations more interesting. The flowers that I work on are outdated and have lost their luster, for lack of perished time.

          The bouquets I pick have been loved, honored, revered, for lifetimes. They bear the marks of time.

          These flowers of evil then become adornment of beauty between two worlds in suspense.


Mourning flowers