I uploaded this photo to my blog months ago–I think I intended for it to be included in a post (probably this one) but then changed my mind and decided to wait for a better occasion. Now is that occasion.
The rose looks a bit withered, I think I probably had had it for a while. It does spark one’s imagination, though. Maybe the lady who received the rose died of consumption and the man who loved her wants to keep the rose, together with her journal, in memory of her.
Ain’t that bleak? Bronte sisters would be proud!
Or imagine journaling with your friend, whose name is Rose.
