Sometimes, I’d recall an encounter that involved carnation.
One day I parked on the side of Roosevelt Avenue between Prince and College Point in Flushing. An India man approached me, posing as a fortune teller. He ranted off a string of facts, turned out to be true. To cap it off, he said that my favored flower is carnation. Then he proceeded to show me a photo of Indian kids in desperation, asking for a donation. I gave him $50.
From a car license plate, you probably can get many facts. But the flower part? I didn’t tell him that I no longer liked it.
The deeper color looks nice, isn’t?