At a time of personal loss this summer, I started looking at the flowers in my mother's garden. I noticed the ones that were torn, fading in color, at the end of their life cycle, and felt a strong bond with these living organisms. Like them, I am ageing, and my body is weathered, looking imperfect and full of marks that life imprinted on me. Does that mean they (or I?) are less beautiful because they lost the pristine appearance society expects of flowers, (of women)?

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