Pearlescent Dahlia

In times of crisis, I've found that people develop peculiar attachments to wall art. While my sister spent months creating decor from expired credit cards and twist ties, my latest obsession – a medium-sized dahlia in luminous pearl, like moonlight caught and transformed into petals – feels almost sophisticated. "It's like someone captured the essence of an elegant garden party and turned it into ceramic," I explained to my partner, who found me analyzing our wall with the concentration of someone planning an art gallery heist. "Though really, it looks more like what would happen if a socialite became a flower and then decided to retire indoors." The ceramic piece came with a keyhole mount that my mother swears looks like a fancy doorknob when viewed from behind. But there's something perfect about its medium size, like it's struck the ideal balance between wallflower and showoff. I hung it on the wall, replacing a questionable family portrait where everyone had mysteriously closed their eyes at the same moment. The pearlescent dahlia transformed our room from a space where we merely existed into somewhere that felt curated, as if we'd finally graduated from "collecting things that cover wall holes" to "intentional decor decisions." Every time I glance at it, I imagine it's quietly congratulating itself on elevating our sp