As I've discussed before, I find special beauty in aging flowers. I photographed these tulips at the height of their blossoming glory and again, as shown here, at the end of their lives. These aged tulips have poetry. They fling themselves open with grace, crumple with dignity. Their color, texture, and posture all intrigue. They kind of break my heart, which is probably a sign that I am too sensitive because they are, after all, only flowers.
{photos: nikon fm2 and fuji superia 400 film}
