Angel Trumpets (genus enigma brugmansia)

Of the many ways to waste time, the logic game of the perfected life isn't one I care to become tangled up; who can endure perfect?  I seldom find myself concerned with achieving a "perfected" stance within someone else's neat categories of what is and what is not.  I accept that radical notion that if man could create perfect, a system to produce it, or a model dependent reality that allows for it - then perfect would be many things, but perfected, most certainly it would not be.  If isolated, the imagination's power is found in convincing the one imagining that it's own truth, is alone true.  And then you can notice here in the picture, where a flower has decided to become a tree...    
     
     
Caption credit & courtesy: Angel Trumpets Galore