Earn [points_amount] when you buy this item.
What if a flower never touched the ground?
It blooms mid-air, not from earth, but from motion.
Florage is breathed there.
A moment unrooted, caught between a breeze and a blush. Where wild rose slips into rouge, then softens into mist. The lines aren't drawn. They're exhaled.
This isn’t a print. It’s a trace of something once moving;
now stilled, just long enough to be worn.
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