Walking the streets of the French Quarter of New Orleans very early one Saturday morning I came across this flower lying on the sidewalk…one perfect, real flower sitting in the middle of the sidewalk still surrounded by the remnants of the prior night's fun. I wondered where it came from. Did it come from the bouquet given to a girl by a lover? Did it come from a party lei? Did it come from a drink? A parade? There was something about the delicacy of it against the hard concrete that caught my eye. I knew this street had been a crazy bustle of people and drinks just hours before. It amazed me that this perfect blossom could have survived people and feet and alcohol to still be here at 8 am. I guess beauty is stronger than anything.
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