A collage from Georgian magazines about the beautiful creative impulse inside. Void. The flower was born from a crumbled seed. It grew for a long year with great difficulty overcoming all the hardships of life. Lack of water, bad weather, wild animals and insects. Finally the world saw its beauty. Just for a few days. Someone plucked it from its roots. Took it to a store. The flower was sold, was wrapped in paper and given to a man who didn't even look at it. After a few days, the flower wilted, withered, and was thrown in the trash. And lying in the trash, dying, the flower was happy because it recognized its name, "Rose." And again, there was nothing.