the other day we went on a walk to the city center. that was because it was the only place we knew how to go and we felt as if we would be lost for the rest of our lives if we were to take a wrong turn. memorised the path, we walked back from our imaginary traces. it was 1 AM. in the morning so it was just us, the city with its old buildings and few people here and there. through the darkness with only historic buildings having some sort of lighting, it looked magical. after a while we found four beautiful bouquets laying unoccupied. i assume it was what florists do after a night of sales, leaving the flowers to people who need to get flowers from someone in their lives. this is a humane need also, after all. i had two writer friends with me. romanticizers we are, we felt as if they were the city’s gifts to us. we took them, naturally. apparently we were those people who needed that flowers. depressing as it may sound, i started thinking about why do we need that plants with colorful leaves. what kind of a need is that? why would maslow put this meaningless plants on top of his triangle? it was either capitalist norms making us believe that taking flowers from someone is what defines a romantically ideal relationship, a way of feeling your friends’ and family’s love for you or your work having a respectable value. or it was the simple lack of nature’s beauties around us, in our lives. i prefer to believe in the latter. we simply surround ourselves with what we call practical tools of a modern age. building this perfect life; we gave up our roots, the nature we come from, our mothers’ wombs. so anytime we see a beauty, a signifier from our actual, past life we hang onto it since it reminds us the unchecked, intense, natural love, hatred, fear, lust, trust, peace we have inside us. since it reminds us that we are siblings after all, the complex hostility the complex systems have built actually have no meaning at all. it once again reveals what it is all about and what it isn’t. summing up, flowers are a huge need for all of us.

ending this blog with a line from İsmet Özel, a Turkish poet:
“Çiçek alıp eve götürüyoruz bunun bir delilik olduğunu bile bile.”
“we buy flowers and take them home even though we know what a madness it is.”