This Ixora flower hedge lines the road to the carpark. As I walked along it with the morning sun against me, these flowers sparkled as the sunlight caught the tiny drops of rain left there by an earlier shower. The blooms were exuberant, fresh and I felt revitalised to face another work day. I could not resist lingering to capture these precious moments of admiration for these beautiful flowers. During lunch time when I saw them again, I was dismayed to find that this same hedge that had, in the morning, presented me with so much joy, was cut and trimmed by a gardener wielding a pair of shears. The shredded leaves and florets were scattered on the road and what I saw might as well have been a concrete wall. I could not cry to see the ruined hedge that others saw as neatness and uniformity. I could not cry for nature's creation because of man's scheduled destruction. I cannot cry anymore because my tears will not be able to heal the damage caused to these flowers in less than half a day. I can only cry within my heart because I care much for beauty and creativity and heal myself in my own way even if no one else around notices that the flowers are deformed.