"A flower - shrivelled, bare of fragrance,
Forgotten on a page - I see,
And instantly my soul awakens,
Filled with an aimless reverie:

When did it bloom? the last spring? earlier?
How long? Where was it plucked? By whom?
By foreign hands? or by familiar?
And why put here, as in a tomb?"

- excerpt from The Flower - Poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

// a playlist for my florist steve shrinkyclinks/stevebucky fic, 'by foreign hands (or by familiar)'

12 tracks