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There is little substance to be found in fresh flowers. They change too quickly, completely devoid of stability. Their fleeting nature is far too erratic; I much prefer them when they are dried and pressed. They lose their color, yes, but they stay exactly where you put them, permanently.

I prefer quiet spaces, but people rarely cooperate. They are so loud, so frantic, so full of unnecessary energy. It is quite rude, really. I suppose some people just need to be taught how to sit still.

I had a small inconvenience today. Someone, a very small, very loud someone. mistook my tools for toys and tried to put them in their mouth. It is quite irritating when people don't respect the sharp edges of things. They should've known better.

Watching them from up here, they look so small, like trapped mice. So noisy yet so predictable.

To leave them in their current, fractured state. It’s a regrettable lack of vision. The true art doesn’t reside in the mere act of breaking, it belongs to the creation born from the debris. A clumsy break yields no real satisfaction.

Flawlessness is a human impossibility, To be human is to be inherently fractured. It is a profoundly stagnant concept to claim infallibility. It lacks the necessary complexity to offer anything of true value to me.