Pressing my hands to the lattice window, I imagined I was touching the red roses that were blooming on the other side of the clouded glass. I could feel their soft, velvet petals warmed by the sunlight and breath in deeply their heavy perfume.
Resting my cheek on the cold glass, the realisation that I could no longer recall the smell of flowers disheartened me. Sighing, I turned away and went back to the massive bed which dominated the tower room which was my cell.
(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2018/01/04/thursday-photo-prompt-window-writephoto/ with thanks).
I would hate to forget the smell of roses…
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I think I would do too!
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Great take. Loved the twist.
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Thanks! 🙂
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loving the longing
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Thanks.
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So sad 🌹
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There are all kinds of cells. My Mom, who is going through the early stages of dementia, was talking to a friend sometime back who suffers similarly. The friend told my Mom that when she woke up that morning, she couldn’t remember what the front of her house looked like.
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Oh wow, that’s so sad and I am sorry for you. I’m lucky that no one in my family has had dementia yet.
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