For a few months, a pack of 50 flower seeds have been lying on my office table. They're Rose Sunray [or Helipterum roseum (Acroclinium roseum)] seeds, sent to me by a charity organisation I've previously donated to. The picture of the flowers on the pack depicts huge gorgeous sunflowers in red, pink and white. All this while I've not opened the pack; instead I just pressed delicately on it to feel the outlines of the seeds. These seeds would never reach their potential in my hands: they would never live and become those magnificent flowers they were meant to be. But they would never die too, as if that could afford some comfort.

The seeds and I make strange company.