There are two florists in my neighborhood: one is actually in my street and the other is at the end of the street in street that is crossing mine (still following me?). Every time I pass the florist in my street there is something to see: stems, flowers, berries and leaves that have fallen down while being unloaded. And I love just to look around there. Sometimes I get so excited I don't see anymore and then I try to quiet down so I can absorb it. I'm still too shy to take pictures of their flowers that are for sale, but maybe one day I'll muster up the courage to go in and ask their permission.
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