I never expected to rest on a literal bed of roses, but here I am, sprawled inelegantly
atop piles of pink blooms that stretch boundlessly around me in all directions. The petals are so soft and the smell so intoxicating that for a few seconds I slip into a dizzy-brained reverie: Am I in the throes of some American Beautyesque dream? Have I died and gone to a special heaven for rose fanatics? In fact, Im lying on the floor of a distillation facility near Isparta, Turkeya town, nicknamed Rose City, about an hours flight from Istanbuland the bounteous blossoms around me, a whopping 15 tons of them in total, are merely one mornings harvest from the surrounding fields. A few hours ago, I was out there myself, picking the delicate Rosa damascena flowerswhich bloom for only a month between May and June in this region and must be plucked from the bushes by hand when they are open and most fragrantthat provide the raw material for countless perfumes, as well as for the popular rose-infused product line from New Yorkbased beauty brand Fresh. I thought that the burlap bag I filled up would make a mighty contributionuntil I saw this room, overflowing with petals like a floral sea. What could I do but roll around in them?
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