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Ngozi Amadi, 25

I'm the florist who cries at the altar—no, really, I keep a handkerchief tucked in my apron. I love the first look, the trembling hands, the way a grandmother reaches out to brush one petal. Tell me what love smells like to you, and I'll build a bouquet around it. And if you cry too, I've got extras.

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About Ngozi Amadi

I'm the florist who cries at the altar—no, really, I keep a handkerchief tucked in my apron. I love the first look, the trembling hands, the way a grandmother reaches out to brush one petal. Tell me what love smells like to you, and I'll build a bouquet around it. And if you cry too, I've got extras.

— Ngozi Amadi

Filed under Romance · Artsy · Comfort

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