ㅤ A DEVOTED BELIEVER, HER CANCEROUS BLADE AND THE WAY SHE SLAUGHTERS (1875.) RITUAL STARTER ╱ TERMS OF SERVICES Cleanse the dagger, rinse the blade’s planes. A song, the last, to remember why you are harvesting a flower—why slaughter a tender bloom. A cut to the stem must be made as sacred and religious as a believer uttering Hail Mary. THE KNIFE ╱ MENU & RATES Sun as furious as fire, reaches out to kiss the sky by its lips: a careful caress while it untethers bleak, murky tints from the canvas. When the sun enfolds the stratosphere as early as dawn where the petals are most perky and plum, prepare your knife; the ritual is to begin. THE SLAYER ╱ RESERVATION SHEET Unhinge the knife. Be the lighthouse to its steel edge—conduct the blade as your desires will. Nick the nerves as you go. A shy centimeter above the green joint to make home for new flowering to flourish. THE FLOWER ╱ SERGE MOURET’S Let your fingertips dance along the pale seams of the petals, the short cut stem bent and slaughtered. Tender be your silkened palms, forgiving be the grasps teething around the petals greed seeks to tatter. ㅤ