This morning, I passt two shops in front of the flowers. Full of men. All in a row to take a nice pink for their wife, their girlfriend or their daughter or their mother. Men of all ages, in suits and overalls. All in a row. Who is the expert and start listing all the meanings of flowers and roses of various colors, others allow themselves to advise the florist, who prefer a beautiful sunflower, or an orchid. As I looked curiously into the store came running around a gas station, certainly had little time for lunch and saw the whole row is in a panic. I melted my heart! Belliniiiii! Then I think: but my father if he will be remembered, at least one flower to her mother? What do I do? I take him? But confident I get home, though ready to ask her and if escape from the nearest florist. Father's wry smile, "I've got ..." and surprisingly ".. for you too!" OOooOoooOhHH My rose is blue, not a specific meaning, the father's response has simply been "eh red mica I'm not going to take." Right. I still sorrsone in the face ..
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