One day on the beach I met eight year old Zilkha who lives across the road. “I brought you some flowers,” he said presenting a bunch of stiff, faded flowers. I knew if I did not carry the bunch home he would be disappointed.
Someone drove me home, I planted the kids bouquet under a tree in the Sanctuary. Who knows, I thought, something wonderful may come out of little Zilkha’s faded flowers. (Mary Brinton, 1981)

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