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Two little girls exchange their wedding plans on a bench at a playground.  For one of them it’s definitely pink, the other one is more inclined to have it purple.

They are dead serious about every detail: flowers, dresses and cutlery, but not for long.  In a split second they take off to the swings.

As my eyes follow them, my mind wonders far away in space and time to a white windowsill that is wide and long enough to accommodate the little bottoms of two close friends.  Looking out the window, one can see the deep and narrow dark shaft with the courtyard at the bottom — nothing really to look at, no trees, no flowers — just grey asphalt.  That windowsill became a place in which pink dreams flourished about glamorous life in the beautifully decorated mansion and splendidly dressed occupants: both of us. We ran from the reality of concerns and problems faced by our families to the open arms of imagination that entrapped us lovingly in the beauty and glamor our hearts were craving for.

Pink GardenYears following saw two girls growing up into young beautiful women walking out on their unhappy marriages, moving to other countries away from the grim prospects for their daughters.  They struggled and fought tooth and nail for the ‘pink and purple’ not for themselves – it was already too late…

Now their granddaughters have a good chance to have it.

Viva pink and purple!

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