In the early morning, it tips its head back with valor. The Iris Sofrana peels back her feeble generous petals with drops and folds of lilac streaked canvas. Her elegant anatomy, stripped from the neck down, stands gracefully. Reaching skywards, ribbed with natural frill, raw with the colors of flower flesh white tiger stripes and purple veins, it curls towards the ground like tears and lifts up like laughter. Her petals cover her heart, the center of its being as if to contain some sacred secret that is gently holding at her bosom.