Roses are red… well, not necessarily.  I’m not fond of any particular flower… though I love white roses or any flower that is white.  Maybe it’s the simplicity… or the peacefulness it evokes.  Walking past the flower stalls at the Bacolod Public Plaza were buckets (and buckets) of roses waiting for someone to take them somewhere… or to someone.  A dutiful child wanting to surprise her/his mom… or a husband coming home to his wife… or maybe an awkward teen hoping for a new love to bloom.