Orchids.

Today I realize the orchids in my apartment are a quite good metaphor.

In November, when Agnes and I moved into our apartment, the two orchids were in full blossom. One with white petals, one with pink. The white one had only one flower but the pink was flourishing with several beautiful blossomed buds. As time went, in December the petals of the orchids started to fade and fall to the floor. In matter of weeks almost no petals were left. The only tiny hope of a new blossom was two small buds on either flower. When we came back after Christmas all petals had fallen off, leaving two bare branches and the two buds.

Two days ago the I noticed the buds had grown. They had grown so much they almost burst. Now they have begun to open. If I would have watched the buds intensively just today, I think I actually would have seen them expand and open up. It goes so fast. Just a week ago they were solid, almost rock hard, shells that showed no signs of living what so ever, whereas now they are soon ready to be shown at a fair for the most beautiful flowers on earth.

What I saw this as a metaphor for was simply Agnes' and my relationship since we moved here. The flowers of the orchids have been very synched with how the relation between us has been. We noticed quite fast that it wouldn't last and that it was fading, just like the petals. It didn't become any better after Christmas and January was everything but good. Now, though, we have moved on from a bad stage and I feel that it has begun to grow towards something better. Something more beautiful. I hope we can blossom like orchids in time. Maybe not as astonishingly fast, but as beautiful.

In my ears I have tonight heard Zoë Keating and Joanna Newsom.