The gloomy weather weighed on London city. It was a grey, melancholy Saturday, and a sort of malaise seemed to grip Bond Street from the early morning. In spite of this, there was a place, or rather a shop, in which all the smells and typical noises of the boisterous city were not allowed to enter. That place was a small paradise on earth surrounded by a set of scents, feelings, memories: The Mulberry flower shop. Miss Pym lived in her small shop which large and crystal-clear windows, she scrupulously took care of the floral arrangements and of the position of the many vases dripping with petals. At any time of the day she would pick flowers and carry them on her lap like they were babies, and then she would talk to them and put them in their specific pitcher. Here comes the first customer of the day, and Miss Pym opens the creaky little door right away. “Good Morning, and welcome. I am so delighted to see you again; it has been a long time!”. “Oh my dear Pym, I have come here because I know for sure that you are the only one in the world who can help me to solve this problem: tonight there will be a charity party at my place and I still have to think about all the floral decorations. Please, help me: I want to buy something beautiful and take this thought out of my mind”. A soft smile blooms on the warm lady’s lips and she immediately replies: “Sweetheart, a flower is much more than a simple ornament. You cannot choose it randomly, like a gift for someone you care little about: the flower is a color, a scent and above all a message. The flower can tell and manifest secrets, whispers and emotions which the human mouth cannot express. The flower has always its own meaning. Come here my darling, we will make the perfect choice”. While the young lady is following her mentor among the vases full of floral beauties, the old woman turns her winkled and delicate hand towards the ceiling, pointing her index finger at a random point: “Do you see? Everything has its own sense; you just need to know if you want to understand it. Look at this laurel-covered ceiling: it is no coincidence that I have decided to put it on display up there! The myth tells that the beautiful Daphne was the first love of Phoebus: this one, struck by Cupid’s angry arrow, falls madly in love with Penaeus’ daughter who, unfortunately, runs away from him. While she is running, the light breeze sharpens her beauty. Her figure becomes a dream for the longing Apollo and a condemnation for the virgin who, in order to not give herself to Apollo, asks to change her shape, thus she is transformed into a laurel tree”. “I do not like this story, I do not want to transmit anything like this, why should beauty become a condemnation?”. Miss Pym answer with a smile on her face: “She was not condemned; her beauty was too pure to be held by someone’s hands. That is why I put it high up, so that it cannot be reachable by those who only appreciate the external beauty without discovering its inner wonder. This is also one of the reasons why I do not recommend you a narcissus as a flower because the stem, instead of remaining beautiful and straight, tends to twist on itself, like the beautiful curly boy from which it takes its name”. “I have already known too many narcissists in this city and all of them will be present at tonight’s party ; so, I would avoid finding them even in the vases!” the young woman grumbles while peeking into other containers. Miss Pym then shows her one side of the shop full of other surprises: “I can still recommend you these beautiful magnolias: these flowers have been bearers of a message of dignity and perseverance since their prehistoric origin. But perhaps you would prefer the dahlia, an elegant and very scenic flower because of its chromatism with the result of a game of colors full of charm. But you do not seem to be very convinced by this flower”. The young lady sighs with dreamy eyes and, raising unintentionally her voice, she exclaims: “I am looking around me, I see this living picture of beauty, of nature; I am feeling almost relieved by the same light breeze which undressed Daphne during her escape and I would like to smell all these fragrant flowers. It is as if I was feeling true and authentic emotions like the love between Philemon and Baucis, Ceres’ sadness and Juno’s wrath because of her husband’s obscenity. I am feeling part of this whole new world which is locked up in this small flower shop. I would like to bring out this euphoria, this lightness and this harmony, in the everyday Chaos”. “You look just like your mother. Do you know what she took after I showed her all the different types of flowers? After making her smell the carnations, irises, and the delicious lilac scents? She sank her hand in a jug of sweet peas and took an exceptionally large quantity. Then she left the shop with a dignified air, as if she had seen the Queen in that noisy car parked in Bond Street. Well, it was not her choice for sure, but her memory’s. Perhaps her grandmother used to perfume the house with crystalline vases of scented peas soaked in the water. Don’t you think this is also a good story?”. “Give me a handful of sweet peas then, because my mother will also be one of us tonight!”. While she is leaving the little shop, the young lady turns to Pym and this one, who is not hiding the emotion of her shriveled but still lively eyes, greets her: “You are just like your mother! See you soon, Mrs. Dalloway”.