I picked this flower from the different sets of fresh blooms displayed in the office each week. Instant flashbacks:
- My Japanese hair.
- Before attempting to count the petals, I had to refresh my memory about the parts of the flower. I was not so sure if the pretty little pieces at the middle are still petals or are the pistil’s stigma.
- On a lighter note, it reminded me of the little girls who play with each petal with “he loves me, he loves me not…” Anyway, I haven’t tried it. Though I wish I did. Had I tried, maybe I selected a flower with the fewest petal (which one?) or the one like in the photo, depending on my appetite of prolonging the agony (read: knowing the results). We know that there’s no truth in it. But it’s funny how at some point one’s innocence is entrusted to the petals for decision making.