In a basement window, all that you can see is a pair of hands at work on a laptop screen and keyboard.
Like a head of flaxen hair, a large bunch of raffia tied at the top and spreading out below, hangs above the counter in the flowershop. Assistants use it to tie bunches and bouquets, pulling out strands as they need them.
The sparse flowers of winter jasmine and periwinkle, the one yellow, the other a heart stopping blue, enliven a bleak mid-winter shrubbery.
This is a hard room to leave.
The reference to raffia takes me back to a childhood memory of being taught how to make small woven article with raffia. I remember an egg cosey.
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