text: There are no roads out of the yellow flower town. In the yellow flower town, the streets shine under the moonlight and tiny sparkles of gold lines the sidewalks, the skies are always clear and the wind carries the scent of spring which gently rustles the crowns of old oak trees. The air smells of daisies and roses and the metal tang of gold, of flying skirts and the always lingering ghost of another’s touch. In the yellow flower town, I dance the steps of a waltz for one, my arms holding up the shape of another, always there, never here. In the yellow flower town, everything is at the same time a truth and a lie, a reality and a façade, the beautiful dream which you float in and the ugly reality for which you return to. Where the sky is clear and the air is sweet and where the cage of roses and romanticism will trap you forever. In the yellow flower town, I fell in love with Aphrodite. Aphrodite with her beauty; Aphrodite with her eyes coloured by eternity; Aphrodite as she rose out of the sea foam, perfection manifested, creating dreams with one hand and heartbreak with another. Aphrodite who shot an arrow to my heart and gently held me as I lay on the ground, my wound bleeding perfect crystals of tears. Aphrodite who whispered dreams of summer nights, who floated through those gold speckled streets as the moon weaved kisses in her hair. I fell in love with Aphrodite and Aphrodite is nothing but a pipe dream, Aphrodite is nothing but a figure in the distance, dissipating as I drew nearer. Aphrodite is nothing more than what we make her to be, but I am not a ‘we’. Still, Aphrodite does not let go. I do not let go. I do not wish to let go. There are no roads out of the yellow flower town. Someone once told me that flowers have a language of their very own, where they spoke only in colours and aesthetics and vague feelings. Yellow flowers represented happiness, friendship and new beginnings, yet I am trapped here amongst the sunflowers and the daises and the dahlias. Vines and stems hook around my wrist and ankles, twisting into chains which weighed me down, tying me down until I was no longer able to move. I fall into a bed of love, of summer nights, of the moon which wove kisses in my hair. I rejoice in only the ghost of lingering hands and the shadow which whispered meaningless sweetness in my ears, my arms holding up the shape of another, never there, always here. I fell in love with Aphrodite in the yellow flower town from which there are no roads out. I fell in love with an idea, a concept which wormed its way into unreality, something of which I could not bring into the world alone. I am in love and I am so very alone, I am in love yet the word felt meaningless, directionless in my mouth, I am in love and I love no one. I am trapped within the yellow flower town with its clear sky and sweet air and empty promises, where a figure shrouded in mist took me by the hand and taught me what love is. I am trapped between a dream and a nightmare, on the cusp of reality and yet so, so far away from it. I am trapped in a halved embrace, reaching for something that was never there in the first place. There are no roads out of the yellow flower town.