Masdevallia tovarensisThere is something tragic, yet very graceful, when the orchid flower has done its time. It slowly begins to wilt and finally become a memory (or a mummy) of its former beauty. Yet it lingers, refusing to give up the right to exist, to remember its former grandeur. Sometimes I almost like this process more than buds opening, in a macabre, Edgar Allan Poe sort of way… exploring the theme of death. Although I study flowers, not beautiful women… at least in this tale.