It’s the contrasts here that interest me.

The glass bottle – an item so delicate – washed ashore, completely intact, though corroded with some sort of calcified salt shell. Through all those years afloat at sea, it hardened and matched its surrounding elements.

The orchid, even more dainty. Could it even survive one day on the ocean? The pristine blossoms of white curve, and hide just a bit, in shadow. A smudge of dirt on one petal. Proof of its origins. Making it real. A blast of blooms that’s been flowering strong for weeks.

There’s no message in the bottle, but I know it’s got a story. Something to do with time. Fortitude. Fate.