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Small Paper Flower...
In the midst of all the noise of a Friday evening here, and with Richard recovering after a strop over who got to go on the laptop first, Joanne brings me a small paper flower.
It’s been in the front room on a small Indian stone dish since Amanda was here last.
“It smells nice”, says Joanne as she holds it for me to smell.
I recognise the perfume and a hundred memories come flooding back.
