Somewhere, slightly lost in France,
he stops the car. Fields of tall sunflowers undulate in the wind, captivating
him. Beautiful and useful; he grins, thinking of his ex-girlfriend. He reckons
these must be farmed to make that healthy margarine she nagged him to use
instead of butter. The plants whisper in the breeze, calling him.
With his phone he
starts taking pictures. The contrast between the blue sky and bright yellow is
mesmerizing. Scrolling through his snaps he remembers seeing the famous sunflower
painting during a visit to Amsterdam, and how it moved his ex to tears.
Inspired by the memory, he tries to get more interesting shots, walking between
the tall slender plants that beckon him. ‘Come in, come in…’
The overwhelming smell
is of honey and sunshine, reminding him of his ex when she came in from a run. He
shoots upwards, through dark green leaves to brightly backlit petals. Taking hundreds
of photos, he walks further and further, until he’s snapped away his battery.
His mind comes back to
him and he runs the way he thinks he came, but there are only flowers, no car,
no road, just flowers everywhere. The plants embrace him with their thick,
sticky leaves. He looks up and the great sunflower in the sky smiles down on
him. She has his ex-girlfriend’s eyes.
