These plants seem the happiest so far. It might be their surroundings. The red wall lets them glow in joy. I walk by them several times a day. And every time there seems to be a tiny spark a wave in the wind. There is no wind where they stand. There is not even a window. But there is this strong joyful contrast. They are the right plants in the right place. Green tongues of a superbly slowly burning fire. Making oxygen. (Not only the colors seem exchanged)

“Red” and “beautiful” come from the same word-core in Russian. The red square used to be the only paved place in early Moscow. It used to be the beautiful square. Red can be an expression of beauty indeed.